The Slowest Form
by Angeleyez
Summary: [Complete] “Is it worth it to stay?” She told him he needed to find out for himself. So he did. He stayed. [Literati] Set in Rory’s freshman year of Yale.
1. Prologue

**Title**:  The Slowest Form

**Author**:  Angeleyez

**Disclaimer**:  No.  That's all I need to say, right?  You know what I mean.  I'm broke.  So, no.  Just...no.

**Summary**:  "Is it worth it to stay?"  She told him he needed find out for himself.  So he did.  He stayed.  [Literati.]  Set in Rory's freshman year of Yale.  

**A/N**:  The prologue includes actual dialogue from the end of "Say Goodnight, Gracie".  (Yes, I rewrote the episode AGAIN, but it was necessary for this story.  It seems that I really didn't like that episode, huh?  To be clear, this fic is completely **separate from my ficlet _Ambiguity_.)  It starts off just like the end of the episode, but think that Rory had more time before her stop came up.  Yes, this is a multi-chaptered story.  By the way, ****huge thanks to Melissa.  Thanks for being a queenly beta and for the encouragement—to write this down, lol.  And as **always**, to Mai:  you're my motivational art goddess.  And no matter what you say, you rock (my socks).**

Feedback would be much appreciated.

**Prologue**

"Hey."

"Hey."

"Can I sit?"  She was surprised at her own question.  When did she have to start asking if it was all right to be near him?

"Uh, sure, sit."  He paused.  "I thought you took an earlier bus."

"My first class got cancelled today."

"Oh.  So what's been going on?"

She suppressed a sigh.  Was this going to be another conversation skirting around their issues?  She had grown dizzy from dancing in these circles.  It seemed like with each passing day, their relationship was worsening, and avoidance was getting them absolutely nowhere.  "Nothing much.  Fran died."

"I heard."

"I went to her funeral yesterday."  
  


"Luke went too."

"I saw him there."

"Yeah?"

"He was in the back," she added needlessly.  

He gave a slight nod, then, as if cutting right to the chase, "I can't go to prom.  I couldn't get tickets."

She grimaced at his words.  Was that just some asinine excuse for something else?  "Oh."

"Sorry."

She turned her head to face the window next to her.  The world passed by in a blur of colors, and for the first time in her life, she began to feel the effects of motion sickness.  Her eyes closed for a brief moment, and she tried to calm her tumultuous stomach.  Next to her, he was shifting positions, his shoulder bumping into hers.  Was he fidgeting?

 "Jess?"

"I'm leaving," he blurted out.

She blinked but remained silent.  Her mind was trying to process his words, but somehow, they weren't registering.  "What?"  She finally asked.

"I…"  He paused and looked away from her before facing forward.  "You weren't supposed to be on the bus this morning."

"I'm… sorry?"  Her voice held an incredulous tone.  Did she just apologize for running into him?

"I'm leaving," he repeated, his gaze finally falling on her face.  This time his voice held a sense of finality.  

She stared back, hoping for some kind of clue.  "Leaving?"

"For California."

Her mouth opened then closed, and she looked down at her lap.  Her mind was reeling from this new realization.  Somehow, she still didn't comprehend.  His words were echoing through her head, but it wasn't clicking.  He was leaving.  California?  Across the country?  3000 miles.  Leaving.  Away.

Gone.

"You're leaving?"  She asked, this time turning her entire body to face him.  "Going… just like that?"

"Rory…" He began.

"California?  What did you pull out a map and say, 'Okay, what's the farthest I can get away from Stars Hollow without traveling outside of the forty-eight consecutive states?'"

"No—"

"How can you be leaving?  Are you running away?"

"I'm not running away," he insisted forcefully, his train of thought landing on his father.

"Things get too hard for you, so now you're going to disappear?"

"It's not exactly like that."

"Then please, explain it to me!"  She almost yelled, causing quite a few passengers to turn their heads.  It felt as if her throat was constricting, and her stomach flipped as the bus hit another bump.  She tried to swallow, but her mouth was bone dry, and she wondered if she was going to be sick right here.

"It's complicated."

"Then un-complicate it.  Break it down for me.  Please."

He sighed, and kept his gaze on his lap.  His refusal to look at her was irritating, but not as much as the tense silence that had now settled over them.

"This isn't fair," she choked out, and she wanted to curse the tears that were currently forming in her eyes.  She blinked rapidly, and once again, she tried in vain to swallow.  

It wasn't so much her words, as the way she said them that caused him to respond.  He heard the tears in her voice, and he internally flinched.  He had grown tired of making her cry.

"I can't stay here anymore.  I'd try to explain, but you wouldn't get it."

It was a struggle to keep her voice steady, and her grip on her emotions was loosening.  She feared she'd lose control soon.  "What kind of excuse is that?  How do you know I wouldn't understand?  You haven't told me.  You haven't even tried.  You never try!"  The knot in her throat continued to tighten, and it was a wonder the words even came out.  

Once again, he said nothing, and her frustration began to boil over.  "You can't just do this," she insisted.  "You cannot just give up and leave.  You weren't even going to tell me!  How could you leave without one word to me?"

"I'm telling you now."

"I'm not supposed to be here, remember?"

"I'm sorry," he said, his eyes finally meeting hers.  His tone wasn't one asking for forgiveness.  His words weren't soft or hopeful. They were just out there and final, as if he was already long gone.

"Don't go," she pleaded, hating that her angry demeanor was rapidly melting.  An intense sadness was replacing it, and she hated that he made her weak.  She hated that he could make her cry.  But most of all, she hated that she didn't want him to go.  He wasn't good for her.  _This wasn't good for her.  But the thought of him becoming nothing more than a fading memory was making her heart ache, and her stomach twist and knot and…_

"I love you."  Now where had that come from?  She could barely believe the words that had just tumbled out of her mouth.  It was a lie, she thought, she wasn't in love with him.  Was she?  No, no, no.  They were made up words that rang false, she was trying to get him to stay.  Anything to keep him here.

His head was turned away, but she knew he had heard her.  Half of the bus had heard, as most of the passengers had been tuned into their conversation.  She slowly turned back to her former position of facing forward.  Nothing was resolved, nothing was different, and he hadn't given her one solid reason for his leaving.  But she could fill in the blanks.  He was tired of all of this, of the two of them not working, and instead of trying—he gave up.  He left.  She should have realized from the beginning that he came stamped with the word TEMPORARY.  Okay, time was up now, and no half-baked love confession was going to change that.

Right?

The bus slowed and with a horrible pang, she realized it had arrived at her stop.  At least this time she would get a goodbye out of him.

"This is my stop," she said in a small voice.

"There's nothing for me here," he responded.  His jaw was clenched, and he seemed dead set on this thought.

"I think you're wrong," she mumbled before standing up.  Her earlier thought of a goodbye rushed out of her head as she took a tentative step forward.  She wouldn't say it.  Couldn't say it.  Oh god, he was leaving.  Going, going, gone, out of her life.  

"Is it worth it to stay?"  His words stopped her in her tracks, and she paused to look back at him.

"You'll have to see for yourself."  With those parting words and a heavy heart, she was off the bus, the doors closing behind her.  No goodbye ringing in her ears, only the question of him.  The same old question, nothing new.

He remained on the bus, hating that he was now reconsidering decisions that had seemed so final the night before.  This was why he hadn't wanted to say goodbye in the first place.  Somehow, he knew that she could convince him to stay.  Her voice, her tears, and suddenly, he was rethinking everything.  Looking down at his duffel bag, he felt a twinge of regret at the hastiness of his packing, at his thoughtlessness of leaving without a goodbye.  What about his fight with Luke?  How about the compromise he would have to make if he did head back?  Repeating senior year, quitting his job… two things he had refused to do.  Was he now suddenly ready to give in?  

But this didn't occur to him, his mind was still on her.  Of the disastrous turn their relationship had taken.  Of how maybe, just maybe, they could fix that.  Was it worth it to stay?  Was she worth it?

He couldn't help but think that yes, she was.


	2. Chapter One

**A/N**:  I love you all.  Thanks **so **much** for the fantastic reviews.  You all are wonderful.  Melissa, as always, thanks for being a groovy beta and giving me a much needed boost of confidence.  Mai… what can I say?  We're BOAF.  Hee.  **

**Chapter One**

As it turned out, it really wasn't worth it.  Or at least that was Rory's opinion on the whole matter.  Of course, this thought wasn't necessarily true.  It was laced with bitterness and anger directed toward their relationship, so her mind was clouded by negativity.  It was funny how the anger never really went away.  (And as she found out, neither did the pain.)  It was a surprise for her when their relationship deteriorated further even after she walked into the diner that evening, her jaw literally dropping at the sight of his hunched over form behind the counter.  (He stayed?!)  She had figured everything was finally starting to look up.  Really, it wasn't possible for things to get any worse.  

It was.  And they did.

But that was all in the past now. Her summer had been spent in Europe thinking non-Jess related thoughts, and seeing sights that she had formerly only read about in books.  Sure, about halfway through her trip she had given into her intense desire (that she rarely thought about, of course) to hear his voice and placed a call to Stars Hollow.  He didn't answer—thankfully—but she did leave a message—she was convinced she had been stricken temporarily insane when she placed the call—and there was only the hope that the antique answering machine Luke refused to trash had gone spastic and randomly deleted her message.  Or maybe Luke listened to it first, recognized her abnormalcy, and got rid of it before Jess heard.  

Although it was more likely that Jess did receive it.  Whatever.  She really couldn't worry about that or him or anything remotely related to him.  It was distracting, not to mention emotionally draining, and the last thing she needed on her second day back in Stars Hollow was an emotional breakdown.  (She'd save that for her first day at Yale.)

At the moment, she was in the process of becoming reacquainted with the town (much could've changed in the months she was away) and delivering gifts.  She was headed to the Kim house, ready to catch up with her best friend complete with screaming, hugging, and jumping around.  And on that thought…

"Lane!"

"Rory!"

They ran full force into each other and proceeded to make a very raucous spectacle of themselves in front of Kim'sAntiques.  

"You're home!"  Lane nearly shrieked.

"I'm home!"

"You look different."

"I've been abroad.  It changes a person," Rory explained.

"Of course," her friend nodded.  "You've been Europeanized."

"Yes, I believe that's the word.  I've seen so much, Stars Hollow seems so… small to me."

"It really is that small.  But I see how it is now," Lane said, playing along, "You've become too good for us."

"I'm sorry, I don't think we'll be able to hang out anymore. I mean, after traveling to a foreign country…"

"Hey!  I've been to Korea!  I am Korean!"

"That's true," Rory said, a smile spreading across her face.  "I suppose I don't have to completely cut you off…"

Lane hugged her friend once again, laughing.  "How I've missed your mind games!"

The two headed inside, and Lane led them to a table in the very back. Rory dropped her backpack on the ground, let out a dramatized groan and collapsed into a chair. After Lane took her seat, she shot Rory an expectant look.  "So… what'd you get me?"

Rory feigned shock.  "Get you?  I was supposed to get you something?"

"It _is a very gratifying and well-known tradition that most people follow. The friend goes away and has a great time leaving their poor, lonely pal all alone at home.  The least this 'so-called' friend can do is bring the lonely one home a gift."_

"But… I'm here!  I'm your gift!"

"Well, I sure hope you didn't throw away the receipt," Lane quipped.

"I'm hurt!" 

Lane smiled and held out her hand.  "Did you know giving makes a person feel better?  It's a scientific fact."

"You're greedy."  She leaned down towards her bag and unzipped the first pouch.  She reached inside and felt around.  "Now I tried to buy you France."

"The whole thing?"

"Of course.  Every girl could use her own country," Her brow furrowed and she reached in further, "Unfortunately, the price was absolutely outrageous, so I figured you'd settle for this," She pulled out a book but as soon as her eyes landed on it, she realized she had the wrong one.  Quickly, she tried to stuff it back inside but Lane caught on to her hastiness and reached down to stop her.

"What'd you got there?  I'm guessing that's not for me," She said, eyes laughing.

"Oh, uh, no.  It's mine."

"Yours?"

"Yup," Rory nodded.

"So if it's yours, why did you try to not so stealthily shove it back into your bag?"

"I didn't want you to see it.  I was afraid you'd call me a bookworm, mocking my literature loving ways."

"Of course.  Because it'd make total sense to start making fun of you _now_," Lane said, shooting her an odd look.  She pulled the book from her grasp and sat back in her seat.  "Blue of Noon," she read from the cover.  "Huh."

"Yeah," Rory shrugged.  "It's by a French author, but I found a translated version, and I figured I'd buy it… because I wanted it.  For me."

"Or for a certain dark haired ex-boyfriend of yours?"

"Fooooor," she drew out the word as much as she could, "Me," she enunciated clearly.  "Me.  M.  E.  Me."

"You do know that the more insistent you are, the more obvious it is that you're lying."

"That's not true!"

"You're nose is growing, Pinocchio.  Just admit it.  You bought it for Jess." 

Rory sighed.  "Sometimes I don't like you."

Lane shrugged and handed the book back over.  "Sometimes you act like such a baby.  Are you going to give it to him?"

Rory opened her mouth once again to protest the intended recipient of the gift but at the look that was shot her way, she crumbled in defeat.  "I don't know.  We're not even on speaking terms… and I don't know if he's moved on.  I've been gone all summer, he could have had dozens of Shanes by now."

"Except he hasn't."

"How do you know?"  Rory asked, narrowing her eyes in suspicion. "Jess didn't get his very own personal stalker while I was gone, did he?"

"How could you think so little of me?  Wipe that smirk off your face before I conveniently forget everything I know!"  She paused and once Rory complied, she continued, "Alright.  He has had no public girlfriends.  He spent most of the summer working in the diner, so unless he keeps them stashed in his closet, he has been very inactive.  And, for your information, I know this from seeing him myself and from the town.  Everyone had their eye on him while you were gone."

"My faithful little town, looking out for me. Thank you, Lane.  So, he's… single?  And he's still… here.  Something I'm pretty surprised about. I didn't think he'd be here when I got back."

"You think he'd just up and leave while you were gone?"  Lane asked, unaware of just how close he came to doing so last May.

"I wouldn't put it past him," she muttered, studying the table top in front of her.  What now?  Talk to him?  Avoid him?  Make eye contact? It wasn't as if she would be able to stay away from the diner for long.  She'd most likely end up there before the day was over.  Luke needed to be greeted (and apologized to for the fake jam).  She also needed the delicious taste of his coffee.  It had been too long. But she doubted she'd enjoy it if it was Jess who was pouring it for her.

Rory tapped her fingers against the table, attempting to rid her mind of her thoughts.  She looked up at Lane and figured a change of subject was needed, so she reached back down to her bag, once again trying to find her gift.  

"Back to searching," Rory sighed.  "So, how's the band?"

"The band?  Ah yes, the band.  My band.  My wonderful, fantastic band," she rambled while Rory raised her eyebrows.  "It's doing okay, I suppose.  We haven't really practiced much over the summer.  Sure we've had meetings, and I've stashed them in random pieces of furniture at every suspicious noise.  And sure Dave left for college in California, so we're one member short, not to mention my having my heart ripped out and stomped on.  But we're doing fine.  Just… fine."

At this point, Rory gave up her fruitless efforts to retrieve the gift and sat back in her chair, her mouth hanging open.  "He… left?"  She managed to stutter out.  "For California?"

"California," Lane echoed.

"Wow, I am really starting to not like that state," she muttered.  "Oh, Lane!  Why didn't you tell me before I left?  I'm so sorry!"

"He didn't tell me, either, till like a month ago.  He kept putting it off… and off…" She sighed.  "Now he's out there, having fun in the sun with all sorts of Kate Bosworthesque girls, and I'm here, with three quarters of a band.  We're not even a complete band anymore!"

"He's not with a bunch of surfer girls! He's down there, setting up his dorm room, moping around, completely miserable without you.  When'd he leave?"

"A couple of days ago.  He said he'd call, write, email, ect., ect.  You know, all those empty clichéd promises that he'll forget about after a week."

"Lane!  Don't say that!  But, what exactly is the situation with you two? Is this a long distance relationship or…"

"A non-existent one?  We've agreed to see other people.  But he's coming home for Christmas… which is only, what? …Four months away," Lane finished mournfully.

"I'm sorry, Lane.  This really…"

"Sucks," she finished for her.  "I can't believe he picked California of all places!  But you know what?  I am not going to pine.  I am not going to sit by the phone every single night waiting for him to call.  I am going to be out, having a great time!  I'll have class, I'll be studying…" She paused.  "I will be casually dating Koreans who aspire to be doctors!"  She threw her hand up in the air in a triumphant stance.  "And guys with non-medical interests when I can manage it," she added.

"That's a great plan!  Live your life to the fullest!  Date all that you can!  And when Dave finally calls, you won't be home, and that'll just go to show him--"

"Wait!  I don't want to miss his call!"

"I think somehow you missed the whole point of your little tirade."

"Yes, you're right. I'm insane.  If I miss his call, I miss his call.  He'll leave a message.  Right?"

"Right!"  Rory agreed, leaning down to, once again, search for Lane's present.  She opened up the second pouch, and this time, was immediately successful.  "Oh!  Found it!"  She slid the book across the table, and Lane caught it before it flew off.

Lane's smile faltered as she lifted the book up to read the title.  "Um…"

"Héros oubliés du rock'n roll: Les Années du rock avant Elvis," Rory recited.  

"That's really great how you can pronounce it but… I can't.  It's kind of in French.  You know, that language that I can't speak.  And…wow.  This entire book is in French," she observed, flipping through the pages.  "French on this page, French on this page.  And, oh, look!  French on page 72!"

"Yes, I know, it's in a foreign language that you don't know, and this, unfortunately didn't really occur to me until I already paid for it.  So…" Rory leaned down and grabbed another book out of her bag.  "I got you this too!"

"A French to English dictionary?"  Lane asked, studying the book in front of her.  "You thought of everything!"

"You're never going to read that book, are you?"

"Let's just put it this way:  It'll make a great paper weight."

"Ungrateful," Rory teased.

--

The bell jingled above her, but all she heard was a warning to turn around, run away. Ignoring the voice (of reason) in her head, she continued inside the diner, the door swinging shut behind her. Her eyes slowly danced from left to right, making a quick sweep of the room.  Unfortunately, her gaze froze about halfway through when it landed on the counter.

Or, more specifically, on him.  

He had been standing there preoccupied—reading, humming, contemplating which cloth cleaned the best… she didn't know—but at the (irritating) sound of the bell, he had glanced up.  Their eyes locked, and she found herself rooted to the spot.  His gaze conjured up an unsettling feeling in the pit of her stomach, and she nearly turned away.  But somehow she recognized this moment for what it was, and she refused to avert her eyes.  It was almost a staring contest between them, who would turn away first…?

After too many seconds had passed, she was surprised to feel a blush reddening her cheeks.  The memory of the last time they had been together—_really _together—accompanied it, and she bit her lip so hard, she tasted blood.  Flashes of that night danced in her head.  Lips, hands, a cold silence and stiff sheets, a first time, their last time, fragments that deepened her blush so much, she felt she had to look away.  And she did break the contact, choosing instead to search for her mother—not there—and then an empty table, her hair falling forward with the tilt of her head to provide a curtain to hide her face.

She slid into the nearest booth, her mind reeling from the absolute nothing the two of them had just shared.  Regret took a seat next to her, and she was practically kicking herself for coming there tonight.  Lorelai wasn't even there; although it was very possible she would be making an appearance soon, so Rory figured she should wait a few more minutes.  At least five hundred more seconds of sitting there, stealing glances at a guy she hadn't had an actual conversation with in months.  Maybe she shouldn't have broken eye contact.  Maybe she should have made an attempt to speak to him, or at the very least, taken a seat at the counter.  It was a horrible thought to think she had just ruined any chance for reconciliation because she couldn't even say "hi".  

Quickly, she glanced over to where he was standing, only to see Luke there, gesturing towards her table, and Jess looking thoroughly pissed off.  He shook his head 'no' with each thrust of Luke's arm in her direction, and finally, the coffee pot was shoved into his hand, and he turned, a scowl present on his face.  On his way out from behind the counter, he grabbed a mug, and she immediately turned away, suddenly finding the tabletop much more fascinating.  Then the mug came clattering in front of her, placed with such a force, it spun.  His hand then entered her line of vision, stilling the cup.  She looked up and saw him suck in a breath.  

"Coffee?"  He questioned, his voice nonchalant.  She nearly smiled at his facade of easiness.  Or maybe it was just at the sound of his voice.

"Of course," she nodded.  He reached down to pour, and the rarely unleashed impulsive side of her decided to seize the opportunity.  Start off slow.  "So how was your summer?"  She asked, doing her best to copy his calm tone.

"Fine," he replied tersely, and then he spun around and headed back to the counter, without another word.  The image of his back actually hurt, a physical shot right through her chest, and all she could do was sip her coffee, and analyze all the reasons why their relationship had taken such a drastic turn downhill.  She couldn't believe that after she had put up such a fight, even shakily confessing love for him, she actually (almost) _regretted his staying in Stars Hollow.  But how could she be grateful?  So he was there for her a little longer… their make-out sessions did little to make up for their non-existent conversation.  She had hoped that he would open up a bit more once he decided to stay, but instead her questions became less frequent as his replies became even more succinct.  And then one night, they really didn't talk at all, instead opting for a physical comfort.  Luke had been gone for the weekend, off with Nicole, and Rory had arrived to find a distracted Jess, on his bed, reading an upside down book.  Greetings were exchanged, and then a kiss, a lingering touch, and before she knew it, she could barely catch her breath as his hand moved to her jeans. Thinking back now, she thought herself naïve, hoping that sex would change things, make everything better.  And it had felt so good…_

But then morning had come, that unfortunate inevitable fate, and she had awoken to an unfamiliar bed and regret.  She hadn't wanted their first time to be under _those circumstances.  She was afraid of him attempting to leave again, afraid of losing him (anything to get him to stay).  She proved herself to be one of those silly girls, losing her head over a guy.  She had tried her hardest to leave without waking him, but stealth had never been her strong suit, and he had woken before she was fully dressed.  What could have been a tender moment was ruined by her uneasiness.  The surrounding air had been thick with tension, and it had settled over her like a second skin.  Then it had erupted into a fight of how the night before should never have happened, of how it had been wrong, wrong, wrong (the word ringing in both their ears).  She didn't trust him, and relationships were based on trust! (And on communication and honesty… both ingredients that they sorely lacked.)  Then there was only the end, their break up, initiated by her and completed by him.  _

That had been a couple of weeks before Europe.  They didn't speak again until right before she left.  A forced goodbye, not meeting his eyes.  Words only exchanged because he had been in the diner when she and Lorelai were saying farewell to Luke. Earlier, he had skipped her graduation, and sometimes, she thought she hated him.

Before she knew it, several minutes had passed, and her coffee cup was empty.  No one came over to refill it, and she sighed, noticing that Jess had disappeared upstairs.  Luke was out of sight as well, and Lorelei was still M.I.A.  After a full minute of staring at the curtain separating the stairs from the rest of the diner, she stood up and hurried over to it.  Then she hesitated, her fingers lingering on the material.

_"Um, hey… hi, Jess."_

_"Hey, Rory.__  Coffee?"_

_Swallowing hard, "Sure."__  A pause.  "You're… here."_

_"It's my shift."_

_"You know what I'm talking about."_

_Looking down, up, around, couldn't look her in the eye, "Anything else?"_

_"A reason."___

_"I think it could be worth it."_

She blinked quickly, although tears hadn't begun to form.  The memory of finding him in the diner even though she was sure he was already 3000 miles away stung, but she refused to shed one more tear over him.  She drew the curtain back, but then the sound of the bell distracted her.  Turning around, she saw her mother in the entrance of the diner. With her free hand, she waved back, and Lorelai raised her eyebrows in question. She took a breath and glanced back at the stairs.  Her hand dropped with a final thought: it wasn't worth it. She was halfway across the room before the curtain fell back into place, looking as if it hadn't been disturbed.


	3. Chapter Two

**A/N**:  Ooh, so sorry if the end of the chapter wasn't clear.  The italics part was meant to be a flashback of the night where Jess stayed.  Thanks **so **much** for all the reviews.  I really love hearing your opinions.  And to Melissa, who's writing rocks my socks.  And Mai:  *hums Mai is a goddess song* Thanks for all the help.  And the muffin.**

**Chapter Two**

"Guess what!"

"I swear, if your answer is 'chicken butt', I will not only lose all respect for you, but will also never speak to you again.  Ever," Rory replied, shoving her hands into her jeans' pockets.

"Uh, kind of harsh if you ask me, but really, I have news!"  Lorelai announced. 

"Alright, don't keep me in suspense…"

"I've decided to buy a cat."  

Rory nearly tripped over her mother's unexpected words, but somehow, she kept her balance.  Slowly she turned her head, cocking an eyebrow, but Lorelai was too busy smiling over her recent decision to notice.  There was a few seconds of the two walking in silence, and then, "A cat?  As in a living, breathing, four legged feline?"

"As if there was another type of cat."

"There is, although I don't see why you'd want to purchase a man devoted to jazz."  Rory paused, thinking over her words.  "I beg you not to turn that into something dirty."

Lorelai's devilish grin faltered and a pout took its place.  "Fine, no mentioning payment for sexual favors," she sighed ("Oh, yeah, thanks," Rory muttered), "Sooo, what do you think?"

"Of your random outburst?  I think you're insane."

"It's always good for a mother to know she has her daughter's support."

"You cannot take care of a cat or any animal, for that matter.  It goes against the laws of nature."

"Unfair!"  Lorelai insisted, turning the corner.  "I took care of you for eighteen years!"

"You got lucky with me.  A miracle occurred.  Divine intervention…  Somewhere, someone was praying for you."

"Cats are easier than kids, you know.  They don't need to be clothed, only bathed occasionally.  As for feeding, you have to keep their bowl full of food with canned once in a while, and no diapers!  They get a litter box."

"One you'll forget to clean out.  And then you'll avoid doing it because the smell will make you gag."

"Oh!  I'll teach the cat how to use the toilet!  Like Jinx from _Meet the Parents, except Little Rory will, of course, know how to flush," she explained as she opened the door, and allowed Rory to head inside before her._

"Yeah, there's a good plan," she rolled her eyes.  "You might as well try to teach the cat how to jump through burning—wait.  Little Rory?  Please tell me I heard you wrong."

"I forgot the most important part!  I already thought of a name for the cat," she announced, leaning down towards her daughter.  She playfully hit her on the shoulder, "Rory!  Isn't that the best name?"

"I can't believe you're replacing me with a cat.  You're damaging my emotional well being." 

"Save it for therapy."

"It seems as if I'm headed down that road…"  

"If it makes you feel any better, you can send me the bills," Lorelai offered, sitting down.  "Come on now, put on your hungry face so Luke will come over."

Rory took the seat opposite her mother.  "He'll come over here faster if you unbutton your shirt more."

"Hey, why don't I just take my whole shirt off?"  Lorelai asked, her voice dripping in sarcasm.

"I guess it all depends on how hungry you are."

"I suppose I could perform a little striptease a lá Demi Moore style."  

"At least I know that if we ever go bankrupt, we won't starve because you'll strip for a living."

"I have such outstanding morals," Lorelai smiled.  "But here's a rule you must remember:  No stripping on an empty stomach.  I need coffee.  Now.  …where's the smaller, scarier version of Luke?"

"He's on break," Rory gave a small nod in his general direction, slightly ashamed that he was one of the first things she noticed upon entering.  In the corner of the diner, Jess sat alone in a booth, eating lunch.  Lorelai twisted in her seat to confirm this, and then began looking all around the diner.  

"Of course he is because everything is against me today.  Ugh.  Now where's the real Luke?"  Lorelai whined.  "He's usually much more dependable than this."

"He's doing this on purpose just to torment you.  He's part of the universe's master plan to drive you crazy," Rory agreed, all the while giving Jess a sideways glance.  Now that she had pointed him out, she couldn't help stealing a look.  Two weeks back from Europe, and they still hadn't exchanged more than a few words to each other.  She blamed it on him because, after all, she did try to strike up a conversation that second night back.  He was the one who had blown her off, and she wondered if maybe it was just too soon.  But they had had all summer.  Would enough time ever pass?  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him move, taking a sip of his drink.  She moved her head slightly, and a clearer shot of him entered her line of sight.

Damn peripheral vision.

"Wow, Rory, you would make an awful spy."

Rory's head snapped back to face her mother.  Whoa, she hadn't realized she had turned so far to the left.  "What?  A spy?"

"Yeah.  You can definitely cross that off of your list for possible future careers." 

"I wasn't aware that was a probable choice.  But what are you talking about?"

"The whole looking over at Jess thing.  It's blatantly obvious."

"Staring at Jess?"  Rory shook her head, feigning confusion.  "I'm not looking at him.  You're imagining things."

"I know what I see.  You're gawking.  Spies don't gawk.  They inconspicuously observe.  You would so get shot if you were a spy."

"I am not gawking!  I'm not even surreptitiously glancing!  And I wouldn't get shot."

Lorelai raised her right hand in the universal gun position, and pointed it at Rory.  "I saw you looking at him," she said in a horribly unconvincing Russian accent.  "You foreign spy, eh?"

Rory rolled her eyes and placed her head in her hands in mock defeat.  In this position, she was able to steal a look without Lorelai noticing.  She suppressed a sigh as the full realization of just how right her mother was washed over her.  This was borderline pathetic.

"Hey, little spy girl, I talking to you."

"Leave me alone," Rory whined.  

Her mother was silent was for a second, thinking hard.  "Why don't you just talk to him?"  

"Because he doesn't want to talk to me.  Which I don't get because it's not as if it's all my fault."

"Maybe he doesn't want to talk because he thinks it's his fault."

"It is," Rory quickly replied.  It was a reflex, she realized, throwing it all on Jess.  In the beginning, at least, it was him.  It was his clamming up, his pulling back, and his running away.  But in the end, maybe she didn't try hard enough.  Maybe he had finally worn her down to the point where she really didn't care.  She didn't always protest his leaning down for a kiss even though she had just inquired how he was doing.  That thought hurt more than she'd like to admit.  In the end, had they both given up?  Had their relationship already been too far gone?

"All right then, I think you just proved my theory correct," Lorelai said, taking a mini bow.  "Ooh!  Luke!"  She spotted him walking toward them and waved.  "Finally!"

"What do you mean, finally?"  Luke asked, stopping at their table.  

"We've been waiting forever," Lorelai insisted.

"You mean to tell me you've been sitting here since the dawn of time?"

"Damn right.  And to think, I don't look a day over three million."

"My diner wasn't here that long ago."

"True," Lorelai gave in, "But this booth right here?"  She patted the table.  "Yeah, this has been here forever."

Rory rolled her eyes at this pointless conversation, and without really thinking her actions entirely through, she slid out of the booth.  Her mother noticed her departure, but she either realized exactly where she was headed, or was too wrapped up in her argument of the age of the building to say anything.  Rory walked to the far corner of the room, her pace quickening with each step in hopes that she wouldn't suddenly turn around.  Without a word, she plopped into the seat across from Jess, causing him to jump.

"Whoa," he remarked at her sudden appearance.

"Hi," she choked out.  "Can I sit?"  Immediately, she cursed her stupidity.  "Don't answer that," she said as his mouth opened to reply.

"I was going to say 'Yes'."

"Sure you were." 

"Well, the yes would have come complete with a sarcastic remark, but I'll save it for another time."

"Knew it."

"You know me well."  His eyes shifted to her ear, and she noticed that he was doing his best not to make eye contact.  Her presence was causing him discomfort, and the realization relieved her.  It was proof that he wasn't perfectly fine with what had happened.  She still had an effect on him too.  His gaze continued to dance around the room, although not as obvious as she had been earlier, but it still caused her to smile.

"You'd make an awful spy," she commented.

"What?"  

"Never mind," she smiled, wondering where to go from here.  "How was your summer?"  She tried, unsure if that really was the way to go.  Last time she had inquired, he had walked away.  Although today, he was sitting down and eating, so escape wouldn't be as easy.

"Good."

"Good?"  She asked.  "Can you give me a little more?"

"Grrrreat."

"Nice Tony the Tiger impression.  But your monosyllabic tendency is obnoxious."

"My…summer…was…great," he pronounced each word slowly and deliberately, and she couldn't help letting out a groan of frustration.  "How was that?"  He asked, using the most innocent expression he could muster up.  

"Having a conversation with you is like pulling teeth."

"You came over here yourself."

"I plead temporary insanity.  And hunger.  Your French fries were calling me."

"My fries spoke to you?  Now, did you hear these voices in your head?"

"Yes.  They were telling me to come over here and pick up the knife…" she reached across the table but he pulled his utensils away.  An amused smile was tugging at his lips, but he did his best not to show it.  

"No knife.  You want a fry?  Take one," he offered, shoving his plate a fraction of an inch closer to her.

"No, that's fine.  I don't want one."

"Yes you do.  You're starving, and you came to the diner looking for a burger and fries, something you have yet to receive."

"You know me well," she echoed his earlier remark.  "But I'm good.  Really."

"Fine," he shrugged, reaching down for one himself.  

Rory, still looking at his face, didn't notice the direction of his arm and went to grab a fry despite her previous statement.  Their hands collided, and even though the contact was only minimal, it felt like a shot of static electricity.  Startled, she pulled away quickly, and in the process, her elbow hit the salt shaker, knocking it over.  Her face grew hot, and she could only hope it wasn't turning scarlet.  At that moment, she wished she was still sitting at her mother's table, arguing over which came first:  The diner or the booth?

Instead of commenting on her strange actions, Jess merely said, "That's bad luck."

At first, she was confused as to what he meant, but then she nodded.  "You're right.  What are you supposed to do again?"

"Throw salt over your left shoulder."

"Are you sure it's your left?"

"Apparently that's the shoulder the evil spirit is standing over," he said, teasing, although his face held a serious expression.

She stifled a laugh as she recalled Lorelai attempting to explain the very same thing to her grandmother, after she had spilled the salt at a Friday night dinner.  Ah, superstitions.  They were utterly insane.  Nonetheless, she complied with what he said, and scooped up a pile of salt and chucked it over her shoulder.  

"Hey!"  Came a voice from behind her.  She turned around only to see Kirk with salt speckled hair, an unpleasant expression fixed on his face.  "I don't appreciate you two taking your domestic disputes out on me!"  He scolded.

Baffled, she replied, "Uh Kirk, I'm really sorry about the whole salt thing, but I have no idea what you're talking about."

"You two are fighting and I got stuck in the crossfire.  You're in a public place, so you should try to keep a hold of yourself!"

"Uh, no, you don't understand, I spilt the salt, and there was an evil spirit and…left shoulder…"  She rambled off, realizing that she would most likely never explain this correctly.

"Evil spirit?  Now I know Jess isn't the nicest guy, but I wouldn't go as far as calling him evil," Kirk replied, leaning over the top of the booth.

"I didn't… but… I never said he was evil," she pouted.

"Teen angst, I remember those days.  I had me a girl once.  Her name was Anna, and she once through a salt shaker at me.  And a couple of spoons, not to mention a spork.  Such bad memories you stirred up…" 

"Sorry," Rory mumbled, sinking lower in her seat.  "Next time, I'll be more careful."

"It's alright, I understand," He shrugged, turning back around.  He shook his head causing most of the salt to hit the floor and continued with his meal.

"Uh.  I… never mind," she gave up, turning back around.

"It seems we were having a domestic dispute?"  Jess questioned.

"Over French fries."  She sighed, using a weak joke to calm her nerves.  It was now or never, she decided.  This wasn't the smoothest transition, but Kirk had mentioned their fighting…

"I'm taking a survey," she blurted out.

"Huh."

"Alright, which came first the--"

"Egg."

"That's not what I'm asking," she insisted.  "The diner or the booth?"

"Yeah, I'm just going to stick with the egg," he replied, obviously lost as to what in the world she was referring to.

"Good call.  Alright, next question.  There's been quite a debate over this one…"  She took a deep breath.  "Your fault or mine?"

She noticed a quick flicker of anger in his eyes, but for the most part, his expression remained the epitome of composure.  "If you're referring to the Kirk incident..."

"I'm not."

"Somehow, I didn't think you were."  He paused.  "Yours."

"No," she said as if it was simple as that.

"Why'd you ask if you were just going to shoot down my answer?"

"Because it wasn't all my fault!"

"You kept badgering me with questions."

"Questions you never answered," she shot back.  "You never told me what was going on with you.  Just kept spouting off lies…"

"I didn't lie to you."

"How's school, Jess?  Have you been going?  What's that?  You have it all under control?"

His jaw clenched tightly, "That wasn't a lie.  I thought I had it under control."

"You told me you were going.  Actually attending school and you weren't.  That's called lying."

"Fine," he relented.  "So I lied about that, I didn't want to have to deal with your lecturing on how I needed to go or your insisting that you could help me 'catch up'."

"I'm sorry, how could I have forgotten?  I was your girlfriend.  I was meant for only the physical aspects."

"Okay, is this about our break up or is this about us having sex?  Look, sorry, I took your virginity.  I'd give it back if I could," he snapped, sarcasm seeping in.

His words, void of sympathy, cut into her deep.  A direct stab right in her chest, causing her heart to slam against her ribcage.  She kept silent, unsure if she still had the ability of speech.  She wasn't sure he fully understood how hurtful his words were.  Somehow, he didn't quite get how sensitive this subject was for her.  He was acting as if this was just another issue the two of them had to work through, a simple everyday matter that could easily be under rug swept.  It wasn't.  Didn't he remember how sure she wanted to be?  Didn't he recall each lingering kiss that she cut agonizingly short because she wasn't ready?  Then she had given in because she'd feared he'd leave.  Again.

"Hey, better me than some one night stand at college, huh?"

She swallowed hard, forcing the knot that had formed in her throat to disperse.  The anger coursing through her veins seemed to explode inside her.  How stupid was she to come over here?  What was the point of trying?  "You're an asshole," she spit out.  Immediately she stood up, her hastiness causing her to slam her legs against the table.  Ignoring the shooting pain, she hurried back over to her mother's booth and dropped into the seat across from her.

"What happened?"  Lorelai asked, eyes wide, her arm frozen in mid-sip position.

Rory took a deep breath, trying to keep her voice calm.  "I called him an asshole.  And I threw salt at Kirk."

"I'm sure he deserved it."

"Which one?"

"Both, I would imagine."


	4. Chapter Three

**A/N**:  Ali, you're awesome.  And amazing.  And fantastic.  Melissa, Marissa, and Mai:  The three M's!  Hee.  I love you girls.  Thanks to everyone who reviewed.  I really appreciate the feedback.

**Chapter Three**

Luke was beginning to make Jess nervous.  Ever since school had started again, and he had actually begun attending everyday, Luke had been striking up conversations with him about the future.  They were concise and usually over before he even realized they were discussing his plans for after high school, but it was beginning to gnaw at him.  It seemed as if Luke now had…expectations of him.  Once in awhile, Luke would actually inquire just what he was studying.  Jess would usually shrug at this question, because had agreed to go to school, but nothing had ever been said about effort or staying awake in class.  But still, Luke was asking.  He was interested.  And pretty soon, if Jess wasn't careful, he'd begin throwing words like 'potential' around.  Jess didn't have potential, and frankly, he didn't care to.

The fact that he had yet to miss a day was beginning to bug Jess as well.  Every day it was the same old routine:  Wake up, help out in the diner, drag his feet to class, accidentally absorb a few pieces of valuable information causing him to pass a test, go back to the apartment, work in the diner more, and maybe (key word:  maybe) do some small part of his homework.  He didn't like that he sometimes caught himself doing that, but often, he found he needed some sort of distraction from the mind numbing state of boredom he sank into.  Working usually provided an excellent preoccupation, but serving customers their meal with a complimentary sarcastic remark could get monotonous fast.  (It usually did.)  So, once in a while, he'd sit upstairs at the kitchen table and attempt a little homework.  Just a little.

On some nights, all of it.

Alright, so he actually wanted to graduate.  It's not as if he didn't want to last year; that choice had been taken out of his hands.  Despite what others thought, he didn't have this huge masterful plan of how he was going to drop out of school only to become some lowlife bum.  That wasn't it at all.  It was just that he had this problem of thinking ahead.  Of past next week.  Don't get your hopes up, don't have expectations (you hear that, Luke?) and everything will be fine.  Why think past the current day?  Of course this myopic tendency caused many problems for him—a.k.a. flunking his senior year.  While he didn't want to go to college (he was very sure of at least that), he really would like to have a high school diploma.  Then he'd see where that and a little cash would get him.

But that was almost a year away.  At the moment, he really didn't need to concentrate on that.  Instead, Chemistry homework was sitting in front of him, and a chewed pen cap was hanging out of his mouth.  Even though he believed that Chemistry was the most pointless, not to mention boring subject next to required Health, he was still doing it.  Or at least, attempting to.  There was a slight flaw in this plan to finish his work, and it was sitting right in front of him.

"What are you doing?"

"Astrophysics," Jess muttered without looking up.

"It's awfully quiet in here," Kirk commented, already moving on to a different subject.

"Well it was until you decided to come in."

"Just you, me, and Luke.  Must be because of the wedding."

"Of course, the wedding.  The empty diner has absolutely nothing to do with your presence, Kirk," He mock assured the man in front of him, before turning back to balancing equations, a smirk present on his face.

"Stop trying to make me paranoid!  It wasn't funny last time, and it's not funny now.  I really thought the government was after me!"

"It was like _A Beautiful Mind_ all over again.  Minus the genius part."

"Is that astrophysics hard?"  Kirk asked, trying to read upside down.  

"Kirk!"  Jess threw down his pen, exasperated.  "I will give you a dollar if you leave me alone."

At this point, Luke walked out of the kitchen, and eyeing him, Kirk said, "Three fifty and you got yourself a deal."

"Seriously?  I give you three dollars and fifty cents and you'll shut up?"

"Scout's honor.  You can value that because I was a scout when I was younger.  I remember this one time I got too close to the campfire--"  

His story was cut off with Jess dropping the money on the counter.  "Okay, pathetic story time over."  And with that, he hunched back over the Chemistry again, his pen cap back in his mouth.

"Luke?"  Kirk asked, causing Jess to groan.  "Turkey sandwiches are $3.50, right?"

"$3.75," was the unfortunate answer.

"Oh.  Jess, I'll leave you alone if you give me another quarter."

"Are you kidd--" Jess cut himself off and put his hands up.  "Fine."  He shoved his hand into his pocket, pulled out a quarter and slammed it onto the counter.  "There."

"Thanks.  Now Luke, I'll have that turkey sandwich.  Can you cut up in triangles?"

Luke, now with a very amused smile on his face, replied, "That's going to cost twenty-five cents extra."

"Jess," Kirk began, swiveling around to face him.  

"Geez."  Jess took his wallet out of his back pocket and handed it over to Kirk.  "Take whatever you want, alright?  Just stop talking to me."

"Okay, I've got enough, Luke.  I'll take that sandwich now.  I'm starved.  Stalking Lorelai and Rory is hard work."

Jess's ears perked up at this but he didn't move, while Luke raised an eyebrow.  "Stalking?"

"I mean, following.  Protecting!  That's the word.  It's basically all the same."

"Of course," Luke nodded, not even caring to know, and turned around to head back into the kitchen.

Getting his mind to concentrate on his work was now near impossible.  Kirk had said the magic word that caused Jess to lose all train of thought.  Damn it!  It was just her name!  But her name brought a mental image, which was then followed by the memory of their most recent encounter.  A small pang of guilt popped up at this part.  He didn't regret (almost) anything he said, because the best possible thing that could happen would be the two of them was having it out.  Completely out.  Screaming, name calling, whatever, as long as they cleared the air between them.  It seemed as if that was the only way to go, because the animosity that now existed between them prevented a nice, clean reconciliation.  But still, he supposed he may have gone a _bit too far with the sex thing.  If he had known she was going to freak out and leave, then he never would have said it.  But maybe that was for the best.  Did he really want to make up?  What would that get him?  An awkward conversation whenever he ran into her?  A half smile, hurried words, and a quick brush off?  Somehow, not speaking at all seemed better._

Why did everything have to be so damn complicated?  Just as he hadn't planned on failing his senior year, he never meant to screw up the relationship so badly—so beyond repair.  It could have been salvaged if he had just said something, but he had dreaded that.  Sitting down and telling her that even though she had defended him against everyone, even though she had believed he could do _so much better, he really, really couldn't.  He didn't.  Sorry to disappoint, but that was the way it always went.  Jess was programmed to let down, and she didn't need to dull herself to that.  _

If he had never tried to run away, would everything have gotten better?  In retrospect, he was fairly sure that that was the final straw.  He may have stayed for her, but really, how in the hell did it help the two of them?  Everything was worse, and to top it all off, the incident had given her serious trust issues when it came to him.  And that had only led to her flipping out when she woke up that morning next to him.  Because she didn't trust him.  Yes, that was exactly what she had said.  Sometimes it bothered him, really irked him, how she acted as if sleeping with him was one of the biggest mistakes she had ever made.  Probably only second to asking him to stay.  It actually hurt sometimes, and he hated the feeling.  Sometimes, he thought he hated her.

"So you're an organ donor?  How noble of you," Kirk commented, holding Jess's license in his hand.  

Jess's eyes flickered up, very uninterested in what was coming out of Kirk's mouth, but nonetheless grateful for a distraction from his thoughts.  Now, maybe he could get back on track and actually complete some of this Chemistry.  He just wanted it over and done with, and maybe if Luke saw evidence of him putting in—dare he say it—effort, then he'd silently accept this and stop bringing up the future.  

The bell above the door rang, signaling the entry of a prospective customer.  When Jess saw who it was, he internally groaned for the umpteenth time that day.  Any lingering hope of completing the homework in front of him was lost.  Today officially sucked.

"Coffee," Rory immediately said upon arriving at the counter.  Before he could say another word, she spoke again, "To go."  She paused.  "I'm in a hurry."  Another pause, "Please."  Ah, there was that trademark politeness.

He turned to retrieve a Styrofoam cup while she rummaged around in her purse for some cash.  

"Oh, I'll get this one, Rory," Kirk piped up.

She looked at him, confused.  "Um, are you sure?"

"It's no problem," he explained, opening up Jess's wallet once again.

"Hey!"  Jess had turned, coffee-to-go in hand when he realized Kirk's idea of payment.  "That's my money."

"You said I could take whatever I wanted," Kirk pointed out.

"But you had to leave me alone."

"I did."

"You did not."

"I did!"

"You did not!"

At that point, Rory's sullen mood was lifted slightly at the sight of the two of them in an argument very reminiscent of a couple of three year olds on a playground.  She moved forward and swiped her coffee, and turned around and headed for the door.  Her spirits were still low, however.  She was feeling what most people felt when they had just seen their first serious boyfriend getting hitched to girl they weren't sure they hated or not.  Down.  Really down.  So far down, she can't even see the freaking sunlight, down.  Everything about today sucked—plain and simple.  Plus, watching Dean just reminded her that she _wasn't_ in a serious relationship, hadn't been since Jess, and then she was thinking of Jess and their time together, and god, today was only getting worse.  The sooner she was out of the diner (and away from the town center), the better.  

The door shut behind her, and the noise was enough to snap Jess out of whatever crazy moment he had unconsciously slipped into.  He eyed her retreating figure as Kirk continued to stare at him.  Now, he wasn't sure what possessed him to do what he did next.  Maybe it was the fact that she had attempted conversation with him not once, but twice.  The first time he had blown her off.  The second he had unknowingly slipped into 'asshole mode' and she had called him on it.  But today, she was only another customer, who hadn't even offered a casual hello.  So he decided in a roundabout way that it was his turn to try, if he wanted to.  And…well, he kind of did.  

Jess muttered something about having to go, and walked out from behind the counter and started for the door.  Then, he turned back around, grabbed his wallet back from Kirk, shot him a scornful look, and left.  He jumped down the stairs and spotted Rory up the road, speed walking.  Damn, she was fast today.  He walked as quickly as he could, trying to catch up with her.  Then he relented, and broke into a half jog before finally reaching her side.

"Hey," he said as casually as he could, falling into step beside to her.

His sudden presence made her jump, but she shrugged it off.  "Hi," she returned before speeding up even more.  He froze for a second watching her walk away before once again rushing up next to her.  

"Rory?"

"Go away, I'm very busy at the moment."

"And what exactly are you so busy doing?"

"Not talking to you."

"Huh."  He continued to walk beside her, irritated that she was ignoring him.  "Rory," he began again, but before he could get one word further she exploded.

"Look," she snapped, "I've tried this before, the whole talking thing, and you know what?  It didn't work.  At all.  So save me the headache and just leave me alone."  On any other day, she would have brushed him off much more civilly, but it wasn't any other day.  It was today.  Dean's wedding.  So therefore, everything was horrible, and she didn't need any kind of Jess frustration to drag her down further (if that was even possible).

"I just came out here to give you your change."

Finally, she stopped.  "I didn't pay for my coffee.  That was Kirk's—your money."

"Ah, so it was," Jess nodded. 

"You knew that."

"So did you, but I still got you to stand still."

"Jess!"  She abruptly swung back around and hurried away from him.

"I'm certainly getting my exercise today," he muttered.  "You don't want to speak to me because I acted like a jackass last time we spoke," he explained, catching up to her.  She remained icily silent, so he continued, "It's not my fault, you know, the whole 'jackass tendency' is kind of embedded into my genes.  It's a mix from Liz, and well, you've met Luke so you can imagine, and Jimmy.  He can be an ass too, so… really?  I can't help act but act this way."

"God, Jess, you didn't used to talk this much!"  She looked at him from the corner of my eye.  "I don't have a choice in this whole thing, do I?"

"Nope."

"Fine, walk me home then, I don't care."  She took a huge gulp from her coffee and let out a slow breath.  After a few minutes of quiet, she felt herself calming as her curiosity got the best of her.  "So, um, your father?"

"What about him?"

"I don't know… you mentioned him.  Got me thinking… have you talked to him since…" She trailed off.

"Yeah, actually."

"Really?"  She asked, surprised.

"Funny story."  He paused.  "Okay, maybe not so funny, but still partially interesting."

"Spit it out."

"I called him, because I had one of those temporary insanity moments that all those people on death row claimed to have had.  So I call, hang up, and he star six nine's me."

"Just your luck," she almost laughed.

"By this time, I've walked away from the phone, so Luke picks up.  I don't know what possessed him to say that he called Jimmy to chew him out some more, but I'm beginning to suspect that Luke can read my mind."

"Yeah, he's a regular Dunninger."

"Then Jimmy asks to speak to me since he's already on the phone.  What follows is the most stilted, awkward conversation I have ever had."

"And how long was this conversation?"

"Five minutes."

"Five minutes too long, huh?"

They both looked at each other, and he offered a small smile which she, much to his surprise, returned.  She didn't think he realized it, but he was talking to her.  About his father.  It wasn't much, but still, this was what he hadn't done when they dated.  She found she really wanted to hear this.  

"Did you talk at all after that?"

"He's called a few times and we…chatted," he explained, not a fan of his choice of words.  But how exactly could he explain himself and Jimmy?  "Always five minutes.  Always brief.  Always weird."

"And you wouldn't have it any other way."

"I guess I wouldn't," he smirked.

A small thought popped into her head, and her grin began to turn into a disbelieving frown.  Wow, she had forgotten about this.  Apparently, he had as well.  "Jess, you never told me about your father."

"Yes I did.  We just had a whole conversation about him."

"You never told me," she insisted.

"How did I not…  But after you…"  He pointed to her and then back to himself, "And then I…"

"Thank god, you're back to speaking in partial sentences."  She rolled her eyes.  "Luke mentioned it like a week after we broke up.  I actually thought you were leaving just because of school and what happened between us.  I had absolutely no idea your father had popped up."

"Why didn't you mention Luke had told you?"  He asked before realizing was a horrible and idiotic question he had just uttered.  Good job, he had really screwed himself here.  Note to self:  Extract foot from mouth.

"Why didn't _I_ mention it?  Why didn't you!  I can't believe after you decided to stay that you didn't even tell me about him!  After you didn't leave, everything was supposed to get so much better and instead, you just shut me out even more."

"Look, at the time, Jimmy was just not a subject I wanted to get into."

"But you were going to California to see him!  You weren't just running away, you were running _somewhere_.  You had a destination in mind:  Go and see your father."

"What does that have to do with anything?  Why does it even matter?"

She abruptly stopped walking, causing him to do the same.  "Because you stayed!  It wasn't just trying to get away from everything here," she began, and he internally flinched because when she said 'everything' she mostly meant herself, "You wanted to go see him.  But you didn't, and now you're stuck here, back in a school you can't stand, and you missed a chance to get to know your dad.  All because of…" She stopped.

"You," he finished for her.  He had never said it so directly before, but she had always known it.  Why else would he have stuck around?

"How long before you begin to resent me for it?"  

Her question stunned him.  He tried to speak, formulate some semblance of an answer, but the thoughts in his head were too garbled.  In the end, as usual, he gave up.  She walked away after the silence had gone on too long.

This time, he didn't follow.


	5. Chapter Four

**A/N**:  A billion and one cookies to Lia.  Thank you so **very** much.  As always, thanks to the three M's, lol.  And thanks for all the great reviews!  Comments and suggestions are always welcome.   

**Chapter Four**

Fifteen hours had elapsed.  She had spent seven of them sitting on the wooden bleachers, wishing her mother hadn't dubbed her "my personal blue-eyed bubbly cheerleader".  Apparently, Lorelai couldn't win this without knowing her daughter was rooting for her.  Rory personally thought that she could do this from the comfort of their home far away from the Stars Hollow gymnasium, but Lorelai insisted otherwise.  So being the ever dutiful daughter, Rory had succumbed to her mother's wishes.  After staying in one spot for two hours straight (she was prone to sporadic breaks), she had come to the foregone conclusion that no matter if she was spectator or participant:  dance marathons were not fun.  They were draining, dull at low points, and long.  Very, very long.  

Also, she was beginning to suspect that this yearly tradition would be the death of her.  Dancing for twenty-four hours was tiring and painful.  Sitting for that amount of time was excruciating.  High school stands?  Not exactly a cozy spot.  She was constantly shifting positions because once twenty minutes had passed, what she had thought was comfortable had become unbearable.  Once this was over, she was certain she'd have the appearance of Quasimodo.  Her back was aching.

Well.  At least she wasn't lining up, preparing to partake in the runaround.

Lorelai and her partner this year, Ryan Wyles, — a.k.a. person number five to fall for her womanly charms and / or manipulations — were dragging themselves over to join everyone else.  There was no question that the runaround was the worst part of the entire event.  At that moment, Rory had never been so relieved to be sitting on the bleachers from hell, even though the damage done to her posture was most likely irreversible.

The horn sounded and they were off!  Her eyes followed her mother's form around and around the circumference of the gym.  Lorelai looked awake and vibrant, but Ryan, on the other hand, appeared to be very close to falling into a coma.  To think he still had nine more hours of this.  He just had to keep moving.  Hopefully, he was a master of the art of sleeping while standing, and would survive this.  If not, he would have to incur Lorelai's wrath, something that should always be avoided when possible.  

Rory stood up as the runaround came to an abrupt stop — the dancers hit the ground.  She made her way over to her mother, and took a seat on the floor next to her.  

"Mom?"

"Why am I doing this again?"

"Because you want to prove you're still young and vital?"

"Everyone knows I have the body of a twenty-three year old.  I don't need to do this to prove it."

"Okay, then because you love to dance?"  Rory offered.

"God, no."

"Because you enjoy conforming to society and participating in these borderline insane town events?"

"Still no."

"Because you want to make Kirk cry?"

"Almost there."

"Trophy."

"Bingo!  I really want that trophy.  I want it so bad, I can taste it," Lorelai said.

"Um, trophies aren't known for their excellent taste."

"I know.  It's kind of coppery.  Oh, and a hint of chocolate!"

"You're idolizing it.  Very nice," Rory nodded.

"I'm never moving again."

"And when you said 'never again' you actually mean for the next ten minutes?"

"Unfortunately."

"Isn't the floor uncomfortable?"

"Extremely, but I'm fairly sure that standing up would cause the room to spin and spin and spin and spin--"

"Mom?"

"Right, sorry.  I've lost control of certain parts of my bodies.  If I were to hit or kick you right now, it'd be random loss of nerve control."

"I'll keep that in mind.  How's Ryan?"

"Dead," A male voice came from the left of Lorelai.  

"That's worse than I expected.  Is there anything you need me to do before I go and visit Lane?  Like… help you into a sitting position?"  Rory asked.

"No, just let us rest in peace," Lorelai said solemnly.  "The feeling in our legs will eventually return."

Rory nodded her head sympathetically and stood up.  She crossed the gym floor and headed outside and over to Miss Patty's.  A majority of the town was shoved inside, milling about in colorful costumes and uncomfortable dress shoes.  There were very few people who were not dressed up, and most were the ones in charge of the food tables.  Rory immediately spotted Lane at her usual location — Mama Kim's sandwich table — and weaved her way through the throngs of people towards her.  

"Hey, Lane," Rory said, stopping in front of her friend.  "I see you are, once again, on sandwich duty."

"This is my fate.  I've accepted it."

"If your band fails, at least you have something to fall back on."

"Because the college thing… that won't help me get ahead at all," Lane teased.

"Oh, how is Mama Kim's choice for the pure of heart and well disciplined going?"  

"I think I'm going to run away."

"To join the circus?"

"I was thinking rock n' roll band, but the circus sounds kind of appealing.  I could be a trapeze artist."

"You don't like heights," Rory pointed out.

"I could be the ringmaster."

"As long as you're not a clown."

"Oh, I forgot about them.  Never mind.  I like to be at least one hundred yards away from clowns at all times."

"I told you there would be serious repercussions when you insisted on watching _It_."

"Stupid Stephen King appeal.  That movie gave me nightmares," Lane explained.

"More so than _Pet Semetary_?"  

"I just stopped thinking about that!  You're horrible."

"You saw that three years ago."

"It has a lasting effect.  Like _Kujo."_

"Mean!"  Rory exclaimed.  "I used to love dogs.  Now I suspect each and every one them."

"You're paranoid."

"We need to never go on a Stephen King movie spree again."

"Agreed," Lane nodded.  Then, as an afterthought, "What were we talking about originally?"

Rory paused to think.  "We were…  I think I said…"  She trailed off.  "I'm stumped."

"Me too."

"I hope it wasn't anything important.  You know, sleep deprivation does not work well with us."

"Once again, I agree."  Lane's face suddenly brightened up as a new thought occurred to her.  "Case in point:  my mind is going slower.  I didn't tell you that Dave called!"

"I don't think we were talking about--" Rory cut herself off.  "Dave?  When?  What'd he say?   Did he fall all over himself explaining how much he missed you?  Did he recite poetry?  Did he cry?"

"Let's see… yes, last night, I don't know exactly what he said, but I doubt he was falling all over himself.  If he ever recited poetry I'd have no choice but to kick him… and somehow I don't think he cried while he was talking to my mother."

"Your mom?"  Rory raised an eyebrow.

"I wasn't there, so she answered and took a message for me.  'Dave called.'  It was quite informative."

"Did you call him back?"

"Should I?"

"I'm sorry, is this a trick question?"  When Lane remained silent, Rory continued in exasperation, "Of course, yes!  Why wouldn't you?"

"The last time I spoke to him, he said he'd call me soon.  That was three weeks ago.  That's not soon."

"Well, he's in California.  You know there's the time difference…"  Rory trailed off, her futile attempt to make light of this going unnoticed.

"This is it.  He's found someone else and this is the courtesy call to let me know."

"Do we really need to go through this again?  Dave has not--"

"Found someone else because he is crazy about me.  Evidence supporting this statement includes putting up with my mother and escorting me to prom _after_ reading the entire bible in one night," Lane recited.  "So I'm being paranoid?"

"Call him."

"But--"

"Call him."

"I really don't--"

"Call.  Him."

"You're bossy," Lane complained.

"It's not one of my better qualities."

"Since you're lecturing me on my love life," Lane began ("Lecture?  There was no lecture," Rory insisted), "I suppose this means you've taken care of yours."

"How do you mean?"  Rory asked, the bottom of her stomach dropping out.  She really didn't need this tonight.  Or any night for that matter.

"You settle things out with Jess?"

"Why are you so insistent I clear the air with him?  You don't even like him."

"But you do, so me being the wonderful, helpful friend must encourage this.  If I thought this was bad for you, I would definitely advise against it.  I'm not talking about getting back together with him, I'm just saying--"

"If you say talk to him," Rory broke in, "I swear I will have a tantrum right here in the middle of the floor.  We've done the talking thing.  It really didn't go over well.  There's nothing else to say.  That's it."

"There always something left to say.  And it's obvious that you're not okay with how it is--"

"What?  What's obvious?  I'm not obvious.  I am the opposite of obvious.  I am… unobvious."

"Is that even a real word?"  Lane waved her hand as if to dismiss the subject.  "Doesn't matter.  Alright, Miss Unobvious, I'll call Dave if you talk to Jess."

"Is she even listening?"  Rory mused out loud.  "I said 'I've talked to Jess and nothing came out of it' and then she said--"

"She says stop talking to yourself."

"I think we should give up guys and become nuns."

"Only if I can call Dave from the convent."

"Never mind," Rory sighed.  "You know what?  Fine.  I bet he's at the diner right now, and I'll go over there and we'll talk and have coffee and be merry.  It'll be great."

"Be merry?"

"Go call Dave," Rory insisted before turning around and exiting the studio.  

As soon as she breathed in the outside air, it was as if reality hit and she froze.  What the hell was she doing?  Just because Lane had said to talk to him, she was going to go through it?  Lane wasn't even fully informed on the entire situation, so she really didn't have enough credit to be making suggestions.  Sure, Rory had ordered her to call Dave, but she knew he had not found another girl.  He was merely busy.  He probably felt horrible that so much time had passed between their last talk, and the longer Lane waited to call back, the worse the guilt for him would be.  So hopefully she'd take the advice and ring him up.  Unlike Rory, she _had to try because there was something there.  The two of them were going to last.  Rory and Jess were another matter entirely.  They had been over long before it had officially ended between them._

Rory headed toward the diner, sighing at the internal debate that had erupted inside her.  Talk to Jess, talk to Jess… it was what Lane and Lorelai had both said.  It was what she had attempted to do herself.  But she was tired of talking and getting nowhere.  The circles they continued to go in were making her dizzy and weary, and she was prepared to throw in the towel.  She was ready to accept things the way they were.  She had tried and tried and tried, and there was nothing to show for her efforts.  She didn't trust him, he would end up hating her soon enough, and that was that.  She stopped in front of Luke's.  That was that, she repeated in her head.  She was giving up.

It took her a full minute to tear herself away from the dark building.  He probably wasn't even home, she assured herself, although why did that even matter?  It didn't.  He didn't matter anymore.  The sinking feeling in her stomach lingered no matter what she thought though, and she internally groaned.  If it had been over for so long, why did it feel like it was happening all over again tonight?  God, she was sick of feeling this way.  

Her eyes flickered across the street to the lit up gymnasium.  The mere thought of sitting back down at the bleachers, watching couples dance around the floor made her uncomfortable.  Heading back inside was no longer an option.  Instead, she found herself walking in the opposite direction, and then cutting across the bridge.  A bad choice, she immediately realized, but maybe this was a test.  Walk across and not think about him, and then perhaps everything would be fine.

Unfortunately, halfway across, she heard her name.  She continued to walk, although unconsciously, she slowed down her pace.  He called out again, and she stopped, turning around to face him.  

"Hey," she called out nonchalantly.  This was how it was going to be from now on, she reminded herself.  Casual, noncommittal conversation.  She could do this.  

"Why didn't you knock at the diner?" 

Oh.  So he had been home.  "I didn't need to.  I was just passing by," she lied.

He didn't corner her with the fact that her so-called 'passing by' had taken her several minutes.  Instead, he changed the subject, "Déjà vu."

"Excuse me?"

He gestured around him, and realization slowly came over her.  Oh.  "The dance marathon," he said.

She needed no further explanation.  "Yeah," she nodded.  "I remember."  She took a few steps forward, and he followed suit, so that they were no longer so far apart.  She nearly smiled at the memory, even though it was a painful one.  That night she had been so upset.  She had sat in the center of the bridge, her shoulders hunched from shame and defeat.  But the mind games had been over; it was all out in the open.  And then he had appeared to confirm it.  The beginning of something new…

"So how's the dance going this year?  Lorelai attempt to trip Kirk yet?"

"My mother plays fair," Rory jumped to defend.  "But there have been some comments and mocking."

"Wouldn't be a town event without that."

"Taylor is still surprisingly in touch with what's going on, although Miss Patty seems to be pretty drunk despite the fact there is absolutely no liquor being served."  Jess seemed quite amused by this, so she continued, "For the past couple of hours, she's been trying to get Lindsay to take her ten minute break so she can have Dean all to herself."  Jess smirked at this comment, but she instantly regretted saying it.  

The conversation between herself and Dean came flying back to her.  It played over and over in her mind, distracting her.  

_"I'm sorry if you have a crappy relationship with Jess."_

Yeah.  So was she.

Jess waved a hand in her face, snapping her out of the reverie she had fallen into.  "Sorry," she said.  "I'm just tired."  She really was.

He nodded as the conversation came to a stand still.  To save it from death, he brought up the one fall back subject.  He asked her something he hadn't inquired about in months.  "Read anything good lately?"

She was actually startled by the question, and had to think for a moment.  The title seemed to fly from her head.  Then, "I'm reading The Time Traveler's Wife."

"Huh.  I don't think I've heard of it."

"Now that's a terrifying thought," she smiled.  Yes, yes!  This was excellent.  Maybe it didn't have to be _completely over.  But then she quickly squashed the small hope that had developed.  The hope for friendship—anything—with him.  She couldn't set herself up for a let down.  "It's pretty new.  It's by Audrey Niffenegger.  It's her first novel."_

"Oh.  The plot?"

"The main character Henry has Chrono-Displacement Disorder.  He gets zapped back into time."

"Sounds like a fun disease.  Now when you say zap, you mean…"

"Just kind of randomly transported usually when he gets stressed out.  It's a love story."

"Of course it is," Jess said in disbelief.  

She chose to ignore his tone.  "It's a fascinating concept though.  I think you'd like it.  It's one of those things that if I try to explain it to you, you'll just shoot me a blank look and nod like you get it.  It's easy to understand once you read."

"Perhaps I'll borrow it."

"From?"  She teased.  

"A friend?"

"Maybe," she smiled.  "I'm only halfway through it.  I love it though.  I like the way the author tells the story.  She always includes the full date and the age of Henry and his love, Clare, and it saves from confusion.  It takes place in the present and the past.  I like it when he goes into the past more, I think, because sometimes he knows what's going to happen but he can't change it."  She paused.  "Like most works about time travel, it's saying that no matter what, you can't change the past."  It was out of her mouth before she could give it another thought.  She really wasn't trying to apply it to their situation.  But by the look on his face, it was obvious that he thought otherwise.

"Are you doing this on purpose?"

"No," she insisted.  "I didn't mean…"  She trailed off.  "Never mind."

This time the bump in the conversation was unbearable.  She turned toward the water so she didn't have to look at him, staring at his feet.  The reflection of the two of them stared back at her.  They were standing so close.  It didn't matter.  She wasn't within his reach anymore. 

"I would have lied less," he admitted very, very quietly.

Out of the corner of her eye, she glanced his way.  His eyes were on the water.  "I would have trusted you more.  Before," she added as an afterthought.  "Before… everything."

"Trusted me about what?"

"I don't know," she answered vaguely.  "My grandmother's house," she came up with.  "When we had a fight, and you walked out.  I should have just left it alone."

"I lied."

"No you didn't," she insisted.  Oh god, what was he talking about?

"The black eye thing," he explained, looking up at her.  He looked amused, so she took a quick breath.  This was nothing serious, she told herself.  This was fine.  "I didn't get hit with a football."

Oh.  No.  

"It was a swan," he nearly laughed.  "A crazy swan that probably still lurks somewhere out there," he gestured across the lake.  

She turned to face him.  "You lied.  About the eye.  A swan."  She spoke in sentence fragments, trying to grasp this new concept.  He had lied about this?  "That is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard!"  She snapped.  "I cannot believe you lied about that!  Of all the stupid things…"  She trailed off.

"I shouldn't have told you."

"No, no.  I'm glad you did.  It just makes everything easier," she said almost to herself.  Nothing.  It was over.  Let all of this go.  "I can't believe you…"

"Come on, it was a stupid swan!"

"It doesn't matter what it was about, it was still a lie, Jess!  God, did you _ever tell the truth?"  She kept talking, not expecting an answer.  "This is what I mean.  You were never honest with me.  It was always one of two things.  You either clammed up, or you lied.  I am sick of this.  Of you lying, of you never telling me anything," she began, not paying attention to the fact that she was __finally voicing what she felt when they had been together.  "I'm sick of wondering if you're going to be here tomorrow!"_

"What exactly does that mean?"

She looked back toward the water, trying to control her emotions.  She hated when she let loose like this.  She needed to get a grip; she needed to _breathe.  This was good though; he was going to know._

"After you stayed, it was really great at first.  I was happy; I guess I thought you were in love with me or something," she shook her head, quickly dismissing the notion.  "But then it was like what if everything gets too hard again?  What if we have a fight and you leave?  I wanted to know more about what was going on.  I wanted to help you, but I was afraid it would start a fight and you'd just take off.  And then I slept with you…"  She stopped at the subject they had already beaten to death.  There.  It was out there.  She was done now.  She had told him all she had wanted to.  What he did with it was his decision.  

But he was silent.  He was absorbing every word she had said, taking it to heart.  He got it; he understood.  He had told too many lies, held back too much until they finally reached the point where she was _afraid of having an actual conversation with him.  She feared he'd run.  Maybe he would have._

"Tell me what to do."

"What?"  She asked, startled at his voice.

"I don't know what to do, Rory.  I don't know how to make this better."  

"You can't."

But he wanted to.  He wanted to fix this.  "So that's it?"  He asked, doing his best to suppress his rising anger.  "We're back to being people who only talk when absolutely necessary.  I'll say hi, you'll say hi, I'll take your order."

"I guess."

"Okay," he conceded.  Fine.  It was fine, everything was fine.  This was how she wanted it.  He couldn't do anything to change her mind.

"I should go," she said.

"Yeah, I'll see you around."

She moved forward, prepared to walk past him, but then he stepped back as well.  "Jess," she warned.

He didn't move from her path.  "Wait."  And then he kissed her.  Sometimes, it really was that easy.

He caught her off guard, but the shock of it wore off quickly.  It was the sudden onslaught of emotions that really surprised her.  A wave of familiarity hit her, and she drank it in.  It was tainted with longing and desperation, but she ignored this.  She gave into what she wanted, into him.  The past conversation hadn't happened.  Nothing had happened.  There was only the two of them; her eager hands pulling him closer, and his tongue begging for entry.  She allowed him to deepen the kiss, but it didn't last.  The dizzying effect was only temporary, just as he was.  She wasn't sure she could handle this.  God, she didn't want to fall.  Not again.  He couldn't make this better, because no matter what he did, no matter what happened…

"You're never going to change," she blurted out, only seconds after she pulled away.

He stared at her for a moment; her hand still rested on his chest.  He made no move to shake if off.  "And you'll change too much."

She looked past him, towards the end of the bridge.  Her hand dropped, and she walked around him without a goodbye.  It wasn't until she was back on the street that she let herself touch her lips.  Despite what had been said, the small spark of hope was back.  This time, instead of dismissing it, she let it burn inside her.


	6. Chapter Five

**A/N**:  Wow.  Thanks so **very much for the fantastic feedback.  ****Lia, **Mai**, and ****Marissa, thanks for an assortment of reasons.  By the way, **Arianna**?  You're the sweetest person.  Ever.  Thanks a bunch.**

****

**Chapter Five**

Normally this was the one holiday out of the entire year that Jess could tolerate.  Unfortunately, Stars Hollow had the uncanny ability to suck the enjoyment out of any event, which was why he currently found himself tearing his section of the apartment apart in hopes of finding his jacket.  He was about five seconds from leaving without it, subzero weather be damned.  Tonight, he had no specific destination in mind, only the belief that a little money and his poor excuse for a car would get him somewhere better than this.  Anywhere that was not here would do.  

Although while part of him was egging himself on, ordering him to speed it up, there was a small, barely coherent voice suggesting he stay tonight.  He could barricade himself upstairs, avoiding interaction with all townies, and then around closing time, he could go down, casually park himself behind the counter and offer to close.  This would, of course, have absolutely nothing to do with the fact that it was a Friday night, and that a certain Rory Gilmore would be there after her weekly dinner at the grandparents'.  Definitely not.  Just like heading out in the first place had no underlying motive pertaining to her.  Oh no.

He spotted his jacket peeking out from his closet, and quickly pulled it on.  He was going to stick with the original plan:  go out.  After all, he'd bump into her soon enough.  The town was the size of a postage stamp, and he happened to work at the place that she frequented the most.  Running into her was inevitable; going out tonight was just a delaying tactic.  While he did want to see her — perhaps only to gauge her mood concerning the previous weekend's events — he still wasn't exactly looking forward to it.  They would exchange hellos, and she would offer a polite smile, while her eyes screamed deny, deny, deny!  

His forte was lying; hers was pretending.  It was a tired game.  She had a history of kissing and not telling.  Except it was more kiss and pretend that it didn't happen in the first place, meaning any feelings that may or may not have been stirred up were a figment of her overworked imagination.  

On that note, maybe he shouldn't have done it.  He just hoped that it hadn't ruined the progress they had made:  she had yelled and he had listened.  Most of what had been said he had already known, but to hear her say it out loud had made it so much more real.  Each one of his mistakes had been laid out in front of him, as if to ask:  now do you understand why everything is so screwed up?  Do you get it?

He did.  He really did.

Hopefully, the kiss hadn't undone everything.  It couldn't have.  In fact, it was proof that something, no matter how small, still lingered between them.  He had moved forward first, but she had kissed him back.  When she finally snapped out of her denial, she'd realize it.  She'd see it too.

"Where are you going?"  Luke asked from the doorway.

Jess nearly jumped at the sound of his uncle's voice, but managed to merely turn around, appearing nonchalant.  "Out."

"The return of my favorite vague answer."

"Its comeback was specially planned just for you," Jess replied, taking a quick glace at his reflection.

"Jess?"

"Relax, Luke, mischief night was _last_ night.  The spray paint and baseball bat in the trunk of my car mean absolutely nothing."

"You're not going out."

"I was kidding," Jess brushed him off, and moved for his keys that rested on the kitchen table.

"I figured, although sometimes it's pretty hard to tell."

"What is it then?  Feeling left out?  I could bring you home a lawn gnome if you want."  

"I'll pass.  And you're not going out.  You're going to go downstairs, stand behind the counter, take people's money, actually _give them their change--"_

"Completely unnecessary," Jess interjected.

"And…" Luke drew out, ignoring the side comment, "Hand out the candy."

"Hand out candy to who?"

"Forgive me for thinking you knew the foreign customs of Halloween."

"Do you mean to trick-or-treaters?"  Luke nodded.  "You want me to hand out candy to small children?"  Jess reiterated.  "Say it out loud, Luke.  You'll notice how crazy it sounds."

"Jess… candy… small children…" Luke muttered under his breath.  He shook his head in dismissal.  "Look, you and I are the only ones that are not wearing a costume, meaning we are the only sane ones left in the diner.  You need to stay."

"What happened to Caesar?"

"He crowned himself emperor."

"That's too bad, but I really have to get going now."

"You're working.  There are no arguments.  You are the employee, and I am your boss.  You have to do what I say, and I say get your ass downstairs and help give those kids cavities!"

"I--"

"You stay in this apartment, you work.  Although, if you really want, you can quit the diner, and I'll just start charging you rent."

Jess slipped off his jacket, scowling.  "I don't like kids."

"Then we have something in common."  

Luke pointed to the door.  Jess let out a sound halfway between a grunt and growl before grabbing a book off his nightstand table, and heading down the stairs.  He immediately took his position behind the counter in an attempt to avoid being hailed over by one of the customers.  He would fill no orders tonight.  Candy duty and that was it.  

He leaned forward and rested his elbows on the countertop.  He surveyed his surroundings and unsuccessfully repressed a groan.  Sonny and Cher had taken up camp in the far corner of the diner, and didn't appear to be leaving any time soon.  To his left stood Superman, studying the specials' board and contemplating his meal.  By the window, a rather robust Satine was gossiping with who appeared to be Mr. Rogers.  Jess wasn't entirely sure; the cardigan was a part of the man's usual attire.

Now that the place was scoped out, and there were no children in sight, Jess opened Invisible Monsters, hoping to disappear behind it.  Unfortunately, not even a minute had passed when he heard the bell ring above the door.  A small voice hollering "Trick or treat!" followed soon after.  Jess did not look up.

"I said trick or treat."  Jess didn't move.  "Triiiiick or treat, smell my feet, give me something good to eat…"  The voice began to sing.  When Jess showed no reaction, he continued, "If you don't, I don't care, I'll pull down your underwear!"

"Touch me and you'll seriously regret it," Jess muttered, keeping the book in front of his face.

"Invisible monsters?"  The kid asked, reading the title.  "Is that a ghost story?!"

"Yeah," Jess replied.  "It's about a three headed monster that no can see.  It likes to eat kids dressed up as…"  He lowered the book to see the child's costume.  "Aluminum foil?"  He asked, eyebrow raised.

"I'm a spaceman from the future!"  

"You look like aluminum foil," Jess insisted before lifting his book back up.

Seconds later, a bite size Snickers bar came hurtling towards him, missing his face by less than an inch.  He immediately dropped his novel and scowled at the kid, only to have a full size Hershey bar smack him in the forehead.

"Do you have a death wish?"  Jess snapped.

"You're supposed to give me candy!"

"Hey, have you ever heard the story about Little Johnny and the razor blades he found in his candy?"

Jess's gaze flickered up to Taylor who had paused in his conversation with Miss Patty to supervise his actions.  He wondered if the man could hear what he was saying.  He considered repeating himself a little louder to cause Taylor to revert to panic mode, but then he had another idea.  He lifted up the candy bowl that rested to his right, and shook it, shooting Taylor a smile.  He then poured all its contents into the little boy's bag. 

"Luke!  Candy's gone!"  He announced, nodding at Taylor who scowled back.  

This was what he got for forcing all the businesses in town to participate in this ridiculous Trick or Treat tradition.  Personally, Jess thought kids should stick to ringing the doorbells of houses and bugging people there.  This belief may or may not have been based wholly on the selfish reason that he preferred not to be bothered.  Tonight though, he had no choice thanks to Luke, who must have experienced temporary insanity to even agree to Taylor's request in the first place.  Or perhaps he had done this on purpose to cause Jess extra irritation.

Yeah, it was probably the latter.

The tiny spaceman / aluminum foil boy ran off after expressing a very gracious thank you.  Jess picked up his book, and turned, ready to head back up to the apartment.  

"Where are you going?"  Luke asked, coming out from the kitchen.

"Isn't this a familiar conversation?"

"I said you're on candy duty."

"Candy's gone."

"What did you do?"

"I've been pelting customers," Jess calmly explained.

"There are six more bags in the storage room."

"I shouldn't be forced to give it out.  It's hazardous to my health."

"How so?"

"That kid threw chocolate at me!  He could have hit my eye.  He could have blinded me."

Luke reached over to the counter, grabbed the empty bowl, and shoved it into Jess's hands.  

"I'm willing to take my chances."

"How brave of you," Jess deadpanned before storming off.

He entered the storage room, and forcefully dropped his novel and bowl onto the table.  The latter spun for a few seconds before it teetered off the edge and shattered on the floor.  He swore under his breath, and then kneeled down to gather the glass into a pile.  He took his time in an attempt to delay heading back out to the diner to serve any more violent trick-or-treaters.  If one more object was sent flying toward his head, he would be taking some serious action of his own.

After several minutes of swearing and nearly cutting himself, Jess threw out the broken pieces, and pulled a plastic bowl down from a shelf.  He ripped open two bags of candy and poured them inside.  With a deep breath, he exited the room, novel and candy in hand.  

His gait faltered when he saw he who was now seated at the counter, but quickly, he regained his composure and continued on his way.  He put down the bowl, causing Rory and Lorelai to both glance his way.  He nodded in greeting.  Rory returned the gesture, and Lorelai offered a slight wave.  They then both resumed their conversation, while Jess opened his book.  He flipped to a random page, forgetting where he left off.  It wouldn't matter now though; his concentration was ruined.

"Rory, look… Kirk is Superman!"  Lorelai stage whispered to her daughter.

"Is he wearing a muscle suit?"  Rory mused.

"Huh, it appears so.  You know, I don't know how great a superhero he'd make if he can't even control CatKirk."

"And then there's the asthma…"

"Oh, never mind about Kirk, there's a free table," Lorelai noticed.  "Babette just got up.  So did that woman with her… Oh my god.  Is that Morey?"

Rory quickly turned.  Her jaw dropped once she spotted the couple.  "Why is he wearing that long black wig?"

"I think they're supposed to be Sonny and Cher… reversed."

"Mommy, I'm scared."

"Remember how I said that I was going to be dreaming of a fiery hell tonight, starring my mother as Satan?"  Rory nodded.  "Well, scratch that.  Tonight it's going to be Morey dressed in that sparkling pant suit serenading me with 'I've got you babe'."

"I hope I don't suffer the same fate," Rory muttered.  The pair both stood up, but while Lorelai began to walk forward, Rory lingered behind.  "I'll be right there, Mom."

Lorelai stole a glance at Jess and then looked back at her daughter.  "Um, okay," she replied, uncertain, before walking away.

Rory sauntered further down, so that she was standing right in front of Jess.  He didn't acknowledge her presence, instead opting to shield his face with his book.

"Hi, Jess."

He lowered his novel slightly to look at her.  "Hey, Rory.  You need me to take your order?"

"Oh, no, Luke already took ours."

"Okay."  He resumed reading.

"Um, Jess?"

"Yeah?"

"Could you put the book down for a second?"

"Why?  You said hi, I said hi, and I offered to take your order.  What else is there?"

"Jess…"  She began, an irritated tone taking over.

"I'm just trying to go by what you wanted.  I'm trying to make this easier for _you_."

"Forget it," she sighed, turning to go.

"Hey, Rory, I'm kidding."  Sometimes he didn't know why he had to make this so hard.  "But you did say that that was all you wanted from now on."

"Well, I changed my mind."

"Would this have anything to do with me kis--" 

"Don't," she cut in.

Alright, so they were going down this route.  He almost wanted to continue on with what he was going to say, forcing her to talk or react or do _something_ in regards to what had happened.  But more likely than not, it would only drive her away. He had to stop being so damn difficult.

"How come you're here so early?"  He asked in an abrupt subject change.

She smiled, grateful for his cooperation.  "My grandma let us out of dinner tonight.  She said she wanted us to have our small town fun, but really, I think she did it because my mom called, asking if it was alright if we came in our costumes, and if she thought a playboy bunny was sluttier than a half-naked centerfold.  I think she mortified her into letting us skip tonight."

"That makes sense.  It also explains the rabbit ears on Lorelai's head.  By the way, what are you supposed to be?"

"Guess."  She gestured down to her outfit, and slowly spun in a circle, as if seeing the back would actually help him.

"You're a maid."

"Old-fashioned maid.  You're getting warmer…"  She pushed her hair back behind both ears, and he spotted his much needed clue, dangling from her left ear.

"You only have one earring in."

"It's pearl," she explained.  

A light bulb seemed to manifest itself over his head.  "Girl With a Pearl Earring."

"You're on the right track," she said, a Cheshire cat grin appearing on her face.

He thought hard for a second, considering her outfit.  She was a maid!  She wasn't trying to be the Vermeer painting but, "Griet.  You're Griet."

"Ten points for the boy without a costume."

"I'm a homicidal maniac.  They look just like everyone else."

"Thank you, Wednesday Adams."

"Easiest costume there is.  You know, I didn't get it right away because you confused me.  I mean, Griet kept her hair covered."

"She also wore both pearl earrings, but what's the fun in being obvious?  You had to piece it all together before you knew."

"You're weird."

"Halloween brings out the crazies."

"So I've noticed."  He paused, wondering if she was going to head to her table now.  She hadn't come over to talk to him about what happened, and now she had flaunted her costume...  What was there left to say?

"I need a favor," she said.

Oh.

"I need a book," she elaborated.

"A book?  You're going to have to be a bit more specific.  I have many books."

"Dr. Zhivago."

"You're only asking for that one because you like saying the title."

"I need it for class."

"Why don't you just buy a copy?"  He asked innocently.

"When I could get it from you for free?  Plus, I'm sure the book is just filled with your enlightening comments."

"And what do I get if I lend it to you?"

"Somehow, I knew you'd ask that."  She lifted up a book of her own:  Blue of Noon.

He studied the cover, a flicker of interest showing on his face.  "What, I get to keep this book until you give mine back?"

"Oh, no," she said.  "This is yours."  At his confused expression, she continued on, "I mean I bought this for you.  Over the summer.  I… I was buying gifts for everyone, and I saw this one, and I thought you'd like it, and I had all this money left, so I bought it."

"Oh."

"Everyone got a gift," she insisted.

"Okay."

"I even bought the town troubadour a gift."

"I'm sure he appreciated it."

"Oh, he did."

"Good.  So yeah, we have a deal, now hand it over."  He reached for the book, and hesitantly, she placed it in his hands.  A small blush still burned her cheeks from her latest ramble, but he didn't draw attention to it.  "Look for yours on my bureau.  Try the first couple of drawers."

"Yeah, thanks," she said, rushing over to the stairs.  

She pushed back the curtain and disappeared up the stairs.  She entered the apartment, and leaned back on the door, taking a deep breath.  Whoa.  She hadn't been up here in five months.  _Five_ months.   She could hardly believe it had been that long.  Unfortunately, the memory of their last encounter lingered behind.  She did her best to ignore it as she headed over to his side of the room, her eyes quickly sweeping over his bed.  The top of his bureau was empty of anything other than loose change, so she opened the first drawer.  At least two dozen books were shoved inside.  She pulled out a few and placed them on the bureau's surface, sending the change scattering.  

Soon enough, the drawer was practically empty.  At the very bottom were miscellaneous objects:  more change, a couple of combs, ripped pages that had fallen out, and a small tape.  Huh.  She reached into the very back, and drew the miniature tape out.  It didn't appear to be a cassette.  It looked more like an answering machine tape.  She stared at it for a moment, before shaking her head and placing it on top of the bureau.  She slipped all the books back into the drawer, before moving on to the next one.

This search proved to be much more fruitful.  Dr. Zhivago was the fourth book she pulled out.  Happy with her success, she replaced everything she had taken out, ready to go back to the diner.

But then there was the tape.

Why would Jess have that?  Spare tape?  Old tape?  Maybe there was something on it.  Curiosity eventually got the better of her, and she grabbed it, and moved over to the small table next to couch, where the ancient answering machine resided.  Carefully, she pulled out the current tape and replaced it with Jess's.  She pressed play.

The door slamming caught her attention, and she turned away, hoping to appear innocent.  

"Do you think Taylor could actually throw me in jail for throwing candy at kids?"  Jess asked as he walked further into the room.

"What exactly did you do?"

"Nothing, nothing," he shrugged.  "Can't be proven.  But shh, I'm not up--"

His voice was cut off by the sound of static, and the message from the old tape began to play:  "_Hey Jess, it's Rory…"_

Jess froze, and Rory's jaw dropped as it continued.

_"I have no idea why I'm calling… just wanted to say 'Hi', I guess, and see how you are…"_

Before it could continue, Jess ran over and turned it off.  He glared at Rory, but remained stubbornly silent.

"Was that my message?"  She asked in disbelief.  "From over the summer?"

"Nope."

"Yes, it was!"

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"I can't believe you saved it!  Did you listen to it over and over again?  Fall asleep to the sound of my voice?"  She teased.  He looked uncomfortable — he was almost squirming, and she couldn't help but enjoy it.

"You're being ridiculous."

"You kept my message."

"And you bought me a book."

Well.  He had her there.

Instead of spending the summer doing her best to forget him, she had entered bookstore after bookstore, wondering which novel he would like best.  Part of her didn't want to bother wasting the money, because really, when was she going to give this to him?  Would she even have a chance to?  A biting fear always lingered at the back of her mind, warning her:  He's already gone.  Finally made that trip to California now that he doesn't have your tears and pleading voice begging him to stay.  There's nothing left for him to stay for.  Nothing worth it…

But she showed that voice, didn't she?  She purchased the book, and not too much later, she called him on the phone, hoping he would answer.  Even though he frustrated her, even though she was still hurting over what had happened between them, she had missed him.  

Judging from his own actions, he had missed her as well.  He had saved the tape.  _Saved_ it!  A small smile graced her face when she thought of him listening to it more than once.

He still cared.  Did she not understand that?  Everything he did now:  repeating his senior year, working at Luke's, just _being_ here… it was all for her.  His own way of silently apologizing since she wouldn't accept it in words.  She was beginning to think that enough was enough, and it was time to forgive.  But there was one thing that always haunted her, something she didn't think she could so easily overlook.  One day, she could wake up, and he could be gone.  She resented him for giving her that fear.  

"Jess, why didn't you leave over the summer?"

Her question caught him by surprise.  They had been discussing something else, where had this come from?  He took a seat next to her on the couch, contemplating how to answer.  However, all he could come up with was "I don't know."

"Did you think about going?"

"All the time," he admitted, his eyes catching the way she flinched.

"Then why didn't you just go?"

Was that what she wanted?  "Maybe I didn't want to leave without a goodbye."

"That never stopped you before.  Besides, you're still here now."

"I am.  And I'm not going anywhere."  The words slipped out of his mouth before he knew what he was saying.  But now that there were out there, they sounded real.  Honest.  He thought maybe he could believe this.  He hoped she would too.

"Don't say things you don't mean."

It was his turn to flinch.  She didn't trust what he had to say.  He only told lies, remember?  "Rory, I'm not going anywhere."

"How do you know?"  She asked, hating that she even had to question this.  "How can you be so sure?  Last year, when we first started dating, I'm sure you weren't planning on disappearing months later."

"Look, right now, I'm here with no plans to leave, I swear."

"What about in a couple of months?  You need to think about the future!"

"And you need to let go out of the past!"  He snapped.

"What?"

He stood up abruptly, walking into the center of the room.  He was so sick of this.  No matter what he said, it wasn't good enough.  He tried to make this better, but she wouldn't tell him how.  Nothing worked, nothing was right with her!  He fucked up and was doing his best to make amends, but she wouldn't accept it.  

"Fine!  I screwed up!"  He burst out, almost yelling.  "I'm sorry I didn't tell you what was going on!  I'm sorry I didn't take to your prom, and that I didn't tell you that I flunked out!  I'm sorry for pushing you away, and for having sex, and for not telling you my father was in town, and for everything else I did wrong.  I'm sorry, alright?"  He took a deep breath, and turned away, running a hand through his hair.  

She sat on the couch, staring at her lap, trying to take all of this in.  She needed to accept this — him and his apology and _everything_.  He was right:  she needed to let go of what happened.  Not forget, just accept it.  Dwelling on past mistakes wasn't going to change where they were now.  Only they could do that.

"I'm sorry too."

He turned back around to look at her.  

"I'm glad you didn't leave.  I'm glad you're here.  Right now," she said.

He considered her words.  He studied her carefully, wondering if maybe this was it.  Maybe the fighting was over.

"I am too," he admitted.

She looked up at him, surprised at his response.  However, her own thoughts stunned her more.

She believed him.


	7. Chapter Six

**A/N**:  Once again, thanks for the feedback!  Kat, it's great to hear from you!  Mai, thanks for being a lovely art goddess, and Arianna, thanks for being so sweet and helpful.  Marissa and Lia, you girls are wonderful.****

**Chapter Six**

Every step she took was one step closer to the diner, yet no sense of foreboding overcame her.  There was no fear of unbearable tension or stumbling conversation.  Instead, Rory felt light — happy, even — with the knowledge that if she were to step in there right now, she would be served a delicious meal with a side of healthy conversation.  Jess's words wouldn't contain underlying meanings trying to make her uncomfortable to the point of confessing something she was too scared to.  When she spoke, she'd think of the present, pushing the past to the back of her mind.  While she had no idea what all of this meant long-term, she understood that, for now, some kind of understanding had been reached.  They had come to a stalemate in which no one would ever win.  She was happy with this.  They both seemed to be.

The Saturday and Sunday after Halloween had been more than she had hoped for.  She had so desperately wanted normalcy around him, and she finally had it.  He had taken her order, asked her about classes, and when she had needed a coffee refill, he had done it himself instead of refusing to approach her a second time.  When she had stopped by for a quick dinner before her ride back to Yale, he had voluntarily sat with her while she waited for her meal to be made.

A biting fear that all of these developments were temporary plagued her mind, however.  There was nowhere to go but up, but how long would it last?  The anger she felt toward him had receded greatly, but was it gone, or simply hiding?  Maybe it was only a matter of time before something reminded her of how much he hurt her, and their fragile relationship would break once again.  Was this ever going to work?  

She needed to stop dwelling on the past, and worrying about the future.  She had to take this one day at a time.  It was what he was doing, although hadn't that been part of the problem in the first place?  He never thought ahead.  He didn't fully understand that every action had a consequence.

She came to a stop in front of the window that looked in on the diner.  As expected, Jess stood behind the counter in his standard position:  rag over shoulder, book in hand.  Always there, always the same spot… it was moments like these that he appeared to be an unwavering fixture in her life.  She'd walk in, and he'd be right there.  But if she hadn't noticed him on the bus months ago, hadn't gone to talk to him, then right now, she'd be staring into empty space.  

Squashing the awful thought, she was about to continue on her way, when he looked up.  He offered a small wave, and she returned the gesture halfheartedly.  She forced a smile, doing her best to ignore the uneasy feeling that had taken over.  His expression faltered almost as if he could tell how she felt, but she didn't stick around long enough to see if he had a further reaction.  

She stuck her hands in her jacket pocket, fingering the money she had to rent a video for her and her mother's impromptu movie night.  She entered the Stars Hollow Video Store, her mind now on the task at hand.  

No sooner had she begun browsing the comedy section, then the front door opened once again.  Her eyes flickered up to see who had entered, and strangely enough, there was Jess.  He headed over to where she stood.

"Hey."

"Hey?"  She asked.

"I gave myself the rest of the night off," he smirked.

"I wasn't aware you had the authority to do that."

"Neither was Luke.  So… anything in particular you're looking for?"

"A movie."

"Somehow, I should have guessed that."

"I'm stumped though.  Too many choices," she sighed.

"You could always go with that favorite classic:  _Willy Wonka."_

"Oh, bad.  Very bad.  So you know, do not mention that movie around my mom."

"Why?  She finally realize most of Wonka's lines were literary references?"  

"Don't be mean," she warned.  "Tim Burton is doing a remake of the film, and when my mom found out, she flipped, saying that the movie is a classic that cannot be redone, and that it's going to ruin it, and Tim Burton is the devil, ect, ect.  Then she found out that Johnny Depp was cast as Wonka, so now she's torn."

"So better not to bring it up?"

"Unless you want to hear a ten minute rant."

"Okay, Wonka is a moot subject.  It's noted."

"Ooh, _Mom and Dad Save the World," Rory read the movie box in front of her.  "This could be good."_

"Geez, if you want to rent a ridiculous alien movie, at least go for something a little better."

"Like?"

Jess reached to the left and grabbed a video.  "_Mars Attacks_.  Completely horrible, but still much better than that one.  Plus, plenty of big names in this one."

"I just got through telling you that my mom thinks Tim Burton is the devil.  Bad choice."

"Fine," he said, continuing down the aisle.  "But we're looking for a comedy, right?"

"We?"

"I have nothing better to do."

"Um, thanks?"

"Come on, I promise I'll find you something good.  If worse comes to worse, we look behind the Rory Curtain."

"Shut up, you know they got rid of that."

"Thanks to yours truly."

"Just keep browsing."  She poked him in the arm as she passed by.  For once, her thoughts from earlier did not resurface, and instead, she found herself smiling.

"_The Princess Bride_?"

"Ooh, Cary Elwes.  My mom would appreciate that," she said.  "_Robin Hood: Men in Tights_!" She exclaimed, spotting the other movie in front of her.  "Hmm, both have him, both are hilarious… which one to choose?"

"I'd go with Mel Brooks."

"Of course, if I was to go with him, I could always get _Spaceballs."_

"_Dracula: Dead and Loving It."_

"Decisions, decisions."

"Either way it's a parody," he pointed out.

"You pick."

"You're so indecisive."  He grabbed _Robin Hood from her hands.  "See how easy that was?"  He asked, heading towards the front.  _

She followed him to the cash register and paid for the movie.  They exited the building together, and immediately, she turned left, wondering if he'd follow.  When he fell into step beside her, she shot him a look.

"Walking me home?"  She asked.

"It's a better alternative than going back to the diner."

They passed several stores as they headed down the sidewalk in amiable silence.  Instinct kicked in, urging her to grab his hand or loop her arm around his.  It had been months since she had performed such a gesture, yet the desire to do it was back.  She ignored it, however, and contented herself with studying him out of the corner of her eye.  A few times, she caught him staring back.  She smiled.

"I've been meaning to ask you… how's school?"  

"Stars Hollow High is still the same sprit-crushing, anti-individualist, creativity-killing house of learning," he explained.

"Wow, aren't we a little overdramatic?  Other than that though… you've been, um, going and everything?"

"Yes, Rory, I've been going."

"How are your classes?"

"Good."

"How about something other than a one word answer?"

"Very good."

"I'm hoping a more detailed question will trigger a more specific answer."

He shook his head.  "You and your crazy ideas."

"How was school yesterday?  What classes were you awake in?  Ten word minimum, please."

"Physics?  Slept.  Pre-Calc?  Substitute.  Civics?  Test.  Spanish?  Dormí.  English?  Discussion."

"Wow," she said.  "Your monosyllabic tendency has taken on a whole new level.  I'm amazed."

He gave her another sideways glance, trying to gauge the level of her irritation.  She looked at ease, but it was obvious that his reluctance to elaborate was beginning to irritate her.  The last thing he wanted was another fight.

"A couple of days ago, my English teacher came up to me and asked who I was and what I had done with the real Jess Mariano," he said.  An amused smile appeared on her face, so he continued, "I told him the real Jess was outside egging his car."

"You do realize he was complimenting you?"

"He was bothering me," Jess clarified.  "I've never seen a fifty year old man run so fast."

"He actually thought you had done something to his car?"

"Like most people, his faith in me was short-lived."

Rory wanted to tell him that most of time, he didn't exactly give people a reason to believe in him.  With a sarcastic and rude exterior, it was too difficult and time consuming to get past it.  A majority of the people he had met hadn't bothered to put in the effort, and were perfectly happy writing him off as a screw-up.  Besides, even those who worked to get past the surface didn't always find the result to be so gratifying.  She had done her best to get to know the real him, and in the end, as it turned out, she hadn't known him at all.

The pair turned onto her street, and continued down the sidewalk, while she chose to keep her mouth shut.  The silence that fell over them was a comfortable one, and she didn't want to ruin it.  If she happened to voice her opinion, it would erupt into a fight, no doubt about it.  He would clam up again, angry that she was lecturing him on how he should act.

When they reached her house, she slowed her pace, wondering how much farther he'd walk her.  He followed her up the porch steps, and only stopped when she leaned back against her front door to face him.

"Thanks for walking me home."

"Thanks for getting me out of the diner.  I'll see you later."

"Yeah, later.  Maybe tomorrow?  I could stop in before I drive back to school," she said.

"Sounds good."

Neither made a move to leave.  She looked down at her feet before meeting his gaze.  "Jess, no matter how much you complain and groan… everything's going well, right?  School, and work, and… everything?"

"Yeah," he nodded.  "Everything seems to be going just… fine."  

He seemed to pause — both in step and thought.  She kept expecting him to leave, but then, to her surprise, he took a step forward.  Towards her.  Her back was already against the door, but she pushed harder against it, almost in hopes that she'd fall through.  He leaned forward slightly, reaching with his right hand to touch her face.  Her muscles relaxed, and she successfully fought off her nervous urge to flee.  He dipped his head down, moving slowly enough to see her eyes close.  This action erased the last of his doubt, and he moved the rest of the way in.  At the last second, she turned her head causing his lips to lightly brush her cheek before he could fully react, and move away.  

She did her best to ignore the small tingles that had been awakened by his brief contact.  They traveled down the side of her face, flitted through her chest, and landed in her stomach where they sank like a stone.  They twisted into knots of regret and possibility reminding her that she wanted this.  She did.  But it still felt as if she was setting herself up for a mighty big fall.  How did she know everything would be fine?  How did she know this time would be different?  How did she know they would _last_?

"Jess, I--"

"I should go," he cut her off.  He moved backwards, ready to begin down the steps, when she caught his arm.

"Don't." 

He looked down at her hand clutching the sleeve of his jacket, and then back at her.  His expression told her that he was unsure about all of this.  He still didn't know what to make of what had just happened.  How had he read this wrong?  He had thought that she had wanted it too, and then… nothing.  

"Why don't you stay?  You can join the movie night."

"Are you serious?"

"We used to do this all the time.  It'll be fun."  She didn't want him to leave.  Not after _that_.  She didn't want to ruin what they had because she was scared to take another chance with him.  Especially now that she wasn't so sure that turning her head had been a good idea.  She could still feel his lips on her cheek, reminding her that if she had stayed still, he'd be pressed against her right now.

"I need to get back to the diner."

"I thought you gave yourself the right of the night off," she pointed out. 

"Look, Rory--"

"Please don't go?"  She let go of his arm and reached for the doorknob behind her.

"Your mom doesn't own a gun, does she?"

"Nope.  And I very much doubt that she'd be able to locate the knives in the kitchen."

"So if I came in, there would be a good chance of me coming out alive?"

"Very good chance," she assured him.

"Okay."  He followed her inside.

"Mom?"

"Oh, Rory, good, you're home.  I have terrible news!  Joe has begun taking classes at the community college," Lorelai called out from the kitchen.

"Joe?"  Jess asked quietly.

"Pizza guy," Rory whispered.  "He's trying to further his education?  This is horrible."

"Hey, not appreciating the sarcasm," Lorelai complained.  "Do you realize what this means?"

"Joe is finally going to start making more than minimum wage?"

"You're thinking too far ahead.  Think here.  Think now.  This means that he takes class during the week, and on Saturday nights… like, this Saturday?  He's at home.  Studying.  Because apparently, that's all you do once you begin college."

"I can attest to that."

"So instead of Joe, we get Ben.  Mr. 'I just got my license two weeks ago, and have only been in four accidents!' Ben."

"This is tragic," Rory gasped in mock horror, stepping into the kitchen doorway.  Jess stood behind her.

"This is Ben who obviously does not understand the reputation that goes along with the name Lorelai Gilmore.  He refused to give me extra cheesy bread," Lorelai said, pouring popcorn into a bowl, her back to her daughter.

"This just keeps getting worse."

"The name Gilmore no longer wields power at the pizza place," Lorelai declared, turning around.

"And to think, we were this close to monopolizing the food industry in Stars Hollow."

"Hi," Lorelai said in surprise.  "Is that Jess behind you?"

"Yeah, I ran into him at the video store, and he helped me pick out something good.  I figured he could stay and watch."

"Uh, okay, sure."  Lorelai picked up the bowl of popcorn, an uneasy expression on her face.

All three headed out to the living room, where Lorelai set the bowl on the coffee table and took the movie from Rory.  After a small outburst of glee at the Cary Elwes factor, she slipped the tape into the VCR.  Moving to sit down, she found Jess and Rory both seated on opposite ends of the couch.

"Sorry Jess, but you're in my spot."  

At this, he slid to the right, closer to Rory.  

"You'd think that'd satisfy me, but… try again."

He moved even further to the right.  

"Jess…"  Lorelai warned.

He closed the rest of the gap between him and Rory, so that they were now shoulder to shoulder, knee to knee.  Rory put a hand over her mouth to hide her smile, and Lorelai glared.

"Right," he nodded and stood up.  He moved to the adjacent armchair and sat down.

The tape began to play, and all parties were silent.  The almost kiss from before combined with Lorelai's mere presence equaled a very tense setting.  Jess was almost happy he had been cast aside to the chair.  Sitting so close to Rory would have only made matters worse.  

Once the coming attractions were fast forwarded through, and the movie was underway, the feeling in the air became noticeably relaxed.  Rory and Lorelai seemed to almost forget he was there as the humor took over, and they laughed along with the scenes.

"My three brothers?"  Lorelai quoted.

"Died of the plague," Rory answered.

"My dog Pogo?"

"Run over by a carriage."

"My goldfish Goldie?"

"Eaten by the cat."  
  


"My cat?"

"Choked on the goldfish," Jess interjected.

Rory and Lorelai both glanced over at him, and he shrugged.  "Now I know why Rory was incapable of staying quiet for more than fifteen minutes during any movie we watched."

"Fifteen minutes?"  Lorelai asked, shocked.  "New record."  She paused.  "You know, it's getting awfully cold down here."

"It is?"  Rory asked.

"Freezing, in fact.  Brrr."  Lorelai hugged herself and pretended to chatter her teeth.  "Do you think you could run upstairs and get me a sweatshirt?"

"Uh, sure," Rory replied, standing up.

"The gray one.  With the hood.  The one with the cat ears on it."

"Okay."  Rory disappeared up the stairs as Jess sank lower in his chair.  He knew what was coming.

"You know, you've never joined us for a movie night.  You and Rory did the movie thing, but we never did this.  How come?"  Lorelai asked, pausing the movie with the remote control.

"Because if Rory were to ever leave us alone together, there would be a very good chance that one of us wouldn't make it out alive?"

"Good answer."

"Do you even own a cat ear sweatshirt?"  Jess asked.

"Yes.  It's in the wash.  But Rory will be a good daughter and look everywhere for it.  And let me tell you, I have a big room.  Huge.  Massive.  And I have tons of clothes.  My closet is the size of Luke's apartment."

"Great."

"Look, Jess, I never trusted you.  You made me uncomfortable, and I hated the thought of Rory ever being alone with you.  I was convinced that you were a liar and a troublemaker and that you would break her heart.  And guess what?"

He didn't respond.

"I didn't think it was possible to not like you more.  I tried, really I did, to give you a chance.  To have just one small ounce of faith in you because Rory begged and begged me to.  She said that I had to get to know the real you, that you weren't as bad as you seemed, that you treated her wonderfully.  I'm sorry, but I never saw any of that.  All I know is that you lied and then you tried to leave."

"Why do you think I lied?"  He asked.

"What?"

"You think I lied for fun?  To hurt her on purpose?  I'm not an idiot."

"I wouldn't jump to conclusions."

"Hey, last Spring, everything went downhill for me all at once.  Excuse me if it caused me to make some bad decisions."

"Jess, it was bad before that.  The night of the hockey game, I warned you.  You weren't treating her right."

"I did my best.  If she had a problem with how things were going, she should have told me.  I'm not a mind reader."

"Yeah, so she had to tell you that she'd prefer you not lying to her and withholding important information?  'Hey, Jess, if you're thinking about running away to California without telling me, could you please not?'"

"How about you stop going on about things you have no idea about?  Yes, I lied.  Yes, I should have told her about what happened.  And no, running away wasn't the answer.  I know.  I've heard it over and over.  But at the time, it was the best I could come up with.  Things were really messed up, and I couldn't think right.  The last thing Rory needed was to hear about all the shit I was dealing with." 

"Of course, because I'm sure that she was the first thing on your mind.  The top of your priority list, right?"  

"I don't need this," Jess spit out, standing up.

"Don't leave," Lorelai ordered.  "You leave, and that's it.  You need to stop running away from everything.  Sit."

Reluctantly, he sat back down into the chair.  He ran a hand through his hair, doing his best to repress his instinct to bolt.

"Just know, Jess, that if my boyfriend of seven months decided to up and leave without a word, I wouldn't take him back."

"Yeah, well you're not Rory."

"No, I'm not.  But don't forget… you're just another boy, Jess.  Someone came before you, and more will come after.  But right now, for reasons that I can't understand, Rory seems to want you.  So do us both a favor, and just… be here.  You have a problem, tell her.  You're upset?  Tell her.  Don't lie to her.  She doesn't deserve it.  Last Spring will not happen again, understand?"

"Yes," he muttered, eyes on the coffee table.

"I'm watching you, Luke's watching you…"

"All waiting with bated breath for me to screw up again?"

"Basically."

Before another word could be said, both heard the creaking of the stairs.  Seconds later, Rory reappeared in the living room, and dropped a sweatshirt in Lorelai's lap.

"Whoa.  How the hell did you manage this?"  Lorelai asked, holding up the cat ear sweatshirt.  

"I did laundry this afternoon."

"Oh.  Thanks."

"No problem," Rory said, grabbing the controller and pressing play.

A few minutes passed where Jess and Lorelai both wondered the same thing:  Had Rory heard all of that?  Jess stole a glance at her out of the corner of his eye, only to find that she was openly staring back.  He turned back to the movie, willing the time to pass faster.  Eventually, as the movie went on, some of the uneasiness faded.  While the Gilmores did not resume their mocking, they at least smiled at the appropriate comedic moments.

The phone rang much later, interrupting the archery contest on screen.

"You're closer," Lorelai and Rory announced in unison.

"Technically, Jess is the closest," Rory pointed out.

"I don't live here," he replied, not moving his eyes from the television screen.

"So?  All you do is pick up the phone, say hello, and ask who it is.  It's not rocket science," Lorelai said.

"That's the third ring.  I bet the person is getting impatient," Rory chimed in.

"What a pity," he deadpanned.

"Fourth… come on, Jess."  

"That's the fifth," Lorelai said, seconds later.

Jess picked up the portable from the coffee table and turned it on.  "Hello?"

"Uh… hi?"  A voice said from the other end.

"Hi."

"No, Jess, 'who's this' comes next," Lorelai said.

"Is Rory there?"  The voice asked.

"Who's this?"

"Look, he learned a new trick," Lorelai stage whispered to her daughter.

"It's Tyler."

Jess handed the phone to Rory.  "It's Tyler," he repeated.

At first she appeared confused, before realization slowly came over her.  "Oh!"  She grabbed the phone from his hand, and leaped up to take the call in the kitchen.  Seconds later, her laughter rang through the downstairs, and Jess stood up.

"Tyler?"  He asked.

"Who's Tyler?"  Lorelai wondered.

"I should get going."

"Movie's not over."

"Are you saying you want me to stay?"

"Oh.  Um."

"Bye, Lorelai.  Thanks for not flaying me alive."

"Yeah, well, next time."

Jess exited the Gilmore house with a significantly worse attitude than when he had first entered.  The non-kiss, Lorelai's words, and the phone call weighed heavily on his mind.  He knew now that he was wasting his time.  It wasn't going to happen, not again.  He should never have followed her into the video store tonight.  It had gotten him nowhere.  Instead, it had crushed any hope he had for having something more than they had now.

He had only taken a few steps down the sidewalk, when he heard someone walking behind him.

"Jess!"  Rory called out.  He kept walking.  "Jess, where are you going?"  When he didn't slow down, she became frustrated and let out a sigh.  "Come on, Jess, don't do this."

He whipped around to face her.  "Don't do what?  I have to get back to the diner."

"Now is not the time to lie to me.  That guy on the phone, Tyler…"

"You don't have to explain it, Rory.  Date whoever you want."

"We're not dating.  Tyler is just a guy from class who asked me out for coffee.  Paris gave him my number here, that's all."

"Okay, fine, thanks for the unneeded explanation.  See you tomorrow."  He turned back around to continue on his way.  She rushed ahead of him, and blocked his path.

"Jess, come back inside.  Don't be like this."

"I'm not being like anything."  He tried to sidestep her, but she mirrored his movement.

"God, Jess, what do you want from me?  We're getting along, really getting along… why can't you just be happy with how it is?"

"I am.  I'm perfectly happy."

"Stop it.  Tell me what you're thinking.  I'm sick of you telling me that everything is okay, when it's not."

"You heard your mother tonight, right?"

"Yes."

"Then you should know what's wrong.  I'm the one who should be asking what _you_ want from _me_.  I don't get it.  I don't know what you want this to be.  We're getting along now, but it's all bull."

"Why?  Why is it so hard to believe that everything is okay now?"  She asked, even though he was voicing her earlier thoughts.

"Do you remember what Lorelai said?  About not forgiving a guy like me?"

"But I'm not her.  You said that yourself!"

"Oh, come on.  You're still mad at me.  You're never going to let what happened go."

"Don't tell me what I think or feel.  You don't know..."

"I know that Tyler sounded okay.  A nice college guy that'll treat you the way you deserve, and Lorelai would approve of.  A guy you won't have to worry about lying or leaving."

"I have no interest in Tyler.  Would you just forget about him, please?  And leave my mother out of this.  This is about you and me.  We were doing fine, why do you have to make such a big deal out of this?"

"Because we're not doing fine," he said.  "Everything is not okay between us."

"I thought it was."

"Rory, tell me honestly that you aren't angry at me anymore."

"I…"  She fidgeted uncomfortably.  "Jess…. this kind of thing takes time."

"Fine.  Then take all the time you need," he mumbled.  

He crossed the street and knew she wouldn't follow him.  He had really thought that Halloween had changed everything.  They had both apologized, both accepted everything that had happened.  But Lorelai was right.  He was just another boy.  He had had his chance, and blown it, and nothing he could do was going to make Rory forgive him.

She could have all the time she wanted.  Time wasn't going to fix this.


	8. Chapter Seven

**A/N**:  As always, I really appreciate the feedback.  Huge thanks to Marissa, my fountain of college knowledge.  I am so utterly clueless without her.  Arianna, as usual, is so very sweet.  Thanks for being helpful; hope you keep on typing!

**Chapter Seven**

He flitted in and out of her peripheral vision, serving lunches and taking orders.  Her watch reminded her that she had been standing in the same place for six minutes, and he had yet to acknowledge her presence, let alone ask what she wanted.  It grated on her nerves that he would leave her hanging like this, but at the same time, her eyes hung on the kitchen door, begging Luke to reach the counter before Jess did.  Any second now, Luke _had_ to come out of the door with a plate or some kind of instinct that a prospective customer needed service.

A shiver sliced through her as she felt someone walk behind her, their arm almost grazing her back.  Seconds later, Jess appeared behind the cash register with two men in tow.  He rang them up, concentrating on his own movement, instead of on Rory who was now staring at him.  He gave in, however, and glanced back at her, but only caught the side of her face.  He went back to counting change, and for a second time, he felt her gaze burning holes in his head.  He looked back at her, missed once again, and averted his eyes to the coins in his hand.  Immediately, he dropped them back in, having miscounted.

The third time, he caught her, ending the ridiculous game.  A painful expression took over her features, and he choked on the words that had immediately shot up his throat.  He swallowed despite the dryness of his mouth, and handed the change to the men before slamming the drawer closed.  Jess remained rooted to the floor, even after the bell on the door rang, signaling the two males' exit.  An internal war tore through him, one side urging him to take the coward's way out and head upstairs; the other yelling that he should suck it up and approach her.  Talking to her seemed too difficult after the disaster that had been the night before.  Their street scene was the feature film of the day, playing over and over inside his head.  It kept getting stuck on one particular frame of her face; her regretful expression as she told him _"These things take time." _

Maybe she was right.  Maybe he had overreacted.  Although, how could he have when his gut kept applauding his outburst?  He had done all he could.  She wasn't letting him fix this.  _She_ was the one with the problem.  Not him.

Before Jess could make any kind of move, the kitchen door swung open to reveal Luke, balancing four plates.  He shuffled past Jess and down the length of the counter to head out to the tables.

"Hey, Luke," Rory said, as he walked by, "Could I get a coffee to go?"

He froze, and shifted his weight to keep the meals from toppling over.  "Can't you ask Jess?  He's right over--"

"_Please_," she cut in.  

"Give me a minute."  

He headed out to deliver the plates, as Jess walked by her once again, to disappear behind the curtain.  She sighed, chastising herself for even coming in this afternoon.  This should have been a quick pit stop to pick up a cup of coffee before making the drive back to Yale.  How had this ended up as an excruciating ten minutes of playing invisible?

"Ah, if it isn't the Stars Hollow Ice Cream Queen.  I've been looking for you," a voice announced to Rory's right.

"Hi, Taylor," she greeted, facing him.  "How long exactly does this queen thing last?"

"Reign.  This is your reign," he corrected.

"Right.  How long do I… _reign_?"

"Queens rule for life."

"I've always been an avid supporter of democracy.  Or anarchy.  Rebellion isn't necessarily a bad thing."

"I've noticed you haven't been very active in the town lately.  You've been slacking on your queenly duties.  I thought you said you'd make an attempt."

"To be fair, there hasn't been much that's been going on," she defended, trying to come with a way to extract herself from the situation.

"The dance marathon."

"I attended."

"Halloween."

"I wore a costume."

"The Autumnal Tea."

"My mother helped with that.  I was there in spirit."

"The Squirrel Gathering."

"Did you just make that up?"

"My point is, Rory," he began, "Yale has been taking up so much of your time, I'm afraid you're turning your back on this town.  You're becoming too big for us… you're becoming one of those city girls.  Before we know it, you'll be dressing suggestively and joining a cult."

"I'm sorry, what are you talk--"

"That's why, I need to ask, what are you doing this week?"

"Going to class," she said slowly, wondering how he missed the obvious.

"Do you have any afternoons free?"

"Uh, yeah, no class Wednesday afternoon.  Why?  Are you going to make me watch a film on the evils of cities?  Again?"

"No, no, of course not.  I think you got the message the first time," he explained.  "I need you to come to the high school and speak to a couple of English classes about college.  You know, about applying and your first year there.  It's that time to start applying… and some seniors haven't even considered their options yet.  I don't want them working at fast food restaurants for the rest of their lives or ending up on the streets.  Or worse… turning out like that nephew of Luke's."

"Taylor, Jess still goes to school."

"Well, I will see you on Wednesday," he said, ignoring her comment.  "And you'll be paired up with…"  He trailed off as he checked the clipboard in his hands.  "Dean.  You and Dean will do the last two classes of the day."

She shrugged.  "Okay, I'll be there."

"Wednesday."

"Wednesday," she repeated.

"Afternoon."

"Afternoon," she nodded.  "Wednesday afternoon."

"At the high school."

Before she could once again echo Taylor's words, Luke interrupted.  "One coffee to go," he said, placing the cup in front of Rory.  "Taylor, whatever it is, the answer is no."

"Now, Luke, why do you automatically assume that my coming in here has to do with you?  Do you think I sit over at Doose's everyday, making lists of questions I can ask you, and decorations that I'll force you to put up?  Do think that's all I ever do with my time?"

"Yes."

"Oh.  Well, I'll have you know you're wrong.  I came in here to see Rory."

"And…"

"And nothing."

"Taylor."

"Well, Thanksgiving is just around the corner, and--"

"No!"  

Rory smiled, and left a few bills on the counter.  She mouthed a thank you to Luke, but he was too busy yelling at Taylor to notice.

--

"I can't do this.  I can't give students advice about college.  I'm going to end up telling them all the wrong things, and make them terrified, and then they're going to flunk out because I made them so nervous and told them to do everything wrong, and for the rest of my life, I will feel guilty.  I made them all fail.  That forty year old brunette who works the grill at the local McDonalds?  My doing."

"Rory, if you're going to have an anxiety attack, could you do it silently?"  Paris inquired, flipping a page in her textbook.

"What did everyone tell us?  What were our words of encouragement?"

"Failure is a part of life, but not a part of Chilton.  Failure equals death.  Or worse, disownment."

"Yeah, that'll go over great."

"Don't you want to be honest?  You're not going to feed them that 'As long as you tried your best bull', are you?"

"Uh, no," Rory said, quickly erasing a line from her paper.

"You need to be tough on them!  Tell them that they need to work hard and not be afraid to step on anybody in their way if they want to get into the best college."

"They're seniors.  It's a little late for them to be making changes in their work habits now.  I'm just supposed to tell them about applying and my freshman year."

"Oh.  Then, tell them that if they only apply to one school then college won't help because they're already lost causes.  Tell them not to count on their first choice, because even if they make the grades, accumulate the hours, and have a legacy there, it's not going to happen because that's how life is.  And tell them that freshman year is not all about partying and sex.  And tell them that if they're going to stay up all night talking to their boyfriend on the phone, not to do it the night before an exam."

"Aww, Paris, that's so sweet.  You talked to Jamie all night?"

"Nope, the girl that sits in front of me in my Lit class pulled an all-nighter on the phone with her boyfriend.  The next day, she didn't answer a single question.  And she snored."

"Oh.  Well, that's great advice."  She paused.  "Speaking of guys though… did you give Tyler my number?"  Rory asked, swiveling in her seat to face her roommate.

"Yeah, he showed up here drooling like a dog.  He was heartbroken that you weren't in your room.  I gave him your number to make him go away."

"Could you not do that again?  I mean, that's my _home_ number.  There was a reason I didn't give it to him, and I don't appreciate you just throwing it at random boys."

"Gee, someone's touchy about this.  What's wrong?  He not broody enough for you?  Despite his lost puppy like traits, he is intelligent.  He wants to be a lawyer."

"I don't like lawyers."

"You don't like guys."

"Paris, I'm not looking to date anyone right now!  It's my freshman year, and I just want to concentrate on my work."

"Hey, what are you trying to say?  I have a boyfriend, and I balance everything just fine."

"I guess you're just much more centered than I am."

"Is this about that Jess guy?"

"No."

"Holding out for him?"

"Just stop giving out my number, okay?"

"Fine, in the future, I will not attempt to help your social life."

"Good.  Thank you," Rory muttered.

A few minutes of silence passed, as she continued jotting down notes for her lecture.  She turned the page in her notebook, nearly ripping it with her haste.  Frustrated and distracted, she threw down her pen.

"Tell them if they're forced to go to the cafeteria in their pajamas, try not to wear bunny slippers."

"Funny, Paris."

--

She should have foreseen this.  The first class had gone _too_ well.  A majority of the students had sat attentive, listening to what she and Dean had to say.  Many asked questions, eager to gather information to prevent them from making any serious mistakes during their application process.  No one had been rude, sarcastic, or ungrateful for the helpful advice and the reprieve from the usual English work.  Rory hadn't embarrassed herself.  Instead, she had felt increasingly comfortable moving around the front of the room, practicing public speaking.  It had been an excellent experience for her, and by the time the bell rang, she felt at ease.  

However, the bottom of her stomach dropped out at the sight of Jess sliding into a second row desk.  Soon enough, the rest of the students filed in, and the bell rang once again, signaling the beginning of class and the end of her good mood.  She dreaded opening her mouth to speak now that her concentration had been skewed.  Plus, she wasn't so sure that that bored expression on Jess's face would last long.  He may have had monosyllabic tendencies, but that didn't mean he wouldn't speak his mind when he felt like it.  

Dean took a step next to her and shot her a look; he had seen him too.  She shrugged as if to wave it aside.  No big deal.  They would just do what they did last period.  Hopefully, Jess would simply fall asleep.  She took a deep breath and smiled.

"Hi, I'm Rory Gilmore.  I'm a freshman at Yale University, and my majors are English and Political Science.  But before any of you flip and insist you don't have any idea of what you'd like to major in, you don't have to declare your major in your first year.  Although, it's a good idea to at least have an idea of what you'd like to do for the rest of your life."

"I'm Dean Forrester, a freshman at Southern, and as of yet, no major.  You don't have to declare a major until the end of your sophomore year or the beginning of your junior, depending on the school."  He paused, noticing a hand in the air.  Reluctantly, he gestured for the person to speak.  

"I wasn't aware you had to go college in order to work at a grocery store," Jess stated.

"You don't," Dean replied pointedly.  

"You were a bagboy for a while… I figured you'd go for assistant manager next.  By the time you're thirty, I bet you'll be running that place."

"So, the application process!"  Rory quickly cut in, her enthusiasm painfully fake.  "If you applied early decision, then your applications for that would most likely be done and sent in by now.  Early decision is binding, but if you're deferred, there's always applying again at the normal application time."  

She looked over at Dean, who at the moment was locked in a staring contest with Jess.  It appeared that for now, she was on her own.  

"You need to apply at the very minimum to four schools.  I've wanted to go to Harvard all my life, but I didn't just send that one application in and then pray every night.  You need backups, safety schools, just in case your dream college falls through."

"College isn't for everyone though," Dean cut in.

"Watch it, Dean.  Rory is standing _right_ there," Jess said. 

"Like I said, college isn't for everyone.  For example, people on the five year plan for high school," Dean continued, not taking his eyes off of Jess.  "Although some people will make it fine in life without a degree in their pocket.  Others are just destined to fail no matter--"

"Applications are usually due January 1st," Rory recited at warp speed.  She shot a look at both boys, fuming.  They were both making this much more difficult than it had to be.  "Some schools have a later deadline, but in general, it's the first.  Once the acceptance letters come in, you need to carefully consider your options, the financial plan, and the classes each school has before you make your final decision.  Pro and con lists help… that's how I chose mine."

A girl in the fourth row waved her arm back and forth.  Finally.  Someone with a real question.

"You said you've always wanted to go to Harvard, but you go to Yale.  Did you not get in or… did your parents want you to go to Yale?  Even though you yourself have absolutely no problem with going to some small art school in Rhode Island?"  The girl asked, hinting at her own problem.

"Well, I, uh…"  Rory was caught off guard with this question.  There were dozens of reasons she had gone for Yale in the end.  "My grandfather went to Yale," she explained.  "He always wanted me to go, but I was dead set on Harvard.  But after thinking about it, I decided I wasn't ready to move so far away yet.  I'd miss this town and my mom too much."  She paused.  "Besides, at the time, my boyfriend lived here too.  I didn't want to leave him."  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Jess shift positions but she couldn't see his expression.  She refused to look him in the face.

"So, should you go to a college just because your parents want you to?"  The girl asked.

"In the end, if you don't have a scholarship or financial aid, your parents have to pay for your school, but I think you should make the decision based on where _you_ want to go.  Don't go or stay for anyone else.  It's hardly ever worth it."  

The words had poured from her mouth as they entered her mind.  They had surprised her at first, but then they had made perfect sense.  Of course.  She had known this all along.  Jess sticking around hadn't been worth it.  He had probably only done it to prove that he wasn't some coward who ran away at the first sign of trouble.  She, on the other hand, had gotten lucky with Yale.  He hadn't been the sole reason for her decision but he had been a major part.  She hadn't wanted to give him up after dating him for such a short time.  Long distance relationships, even ones spanning over only one state, always floundered and faded before the first year was over.  She didn't want to try only to end up hating him in the end.

Again, she couldn't meet his eyes.  She hoped Dean would step in and say something to break the silence.  It seemed that only she noticed the tension in the air.

"I bet that must have been a touch decision," Jess piped up.  Anger laced his voice, but she wasn't surprised.  Sarcasm and rudeness was his natural retaliation.  "I mean, Harvard… Yale," he held up two hands, mimicking a balance.  "Ivy League… Ivy League.  Expensive… Expensive.  Hey, wait, you said your grandfather went to Yale.  Is that really why you went?  He pay to get you in there?"

Rory's eyes flashed with venom.  She knew he was messing with her, purposely trying to get a rise out of her, and it was working — too well.  She was used to vicious attacks on her life, but she couldn't stand it when he belittled her achievements.  He never tried to better himself, yet he had no qualms in attacking her ambition?

Dean took a step forward, trying to meditate the situation before it got serious.  "Jess," he warned.

"What?  That's it?  Just… 'Jess'?  You're not even going to do the towering thing?"

The students in the classroom all shifted in their seats, realizing that there was something going on here.  Anyone that had been previously sleeping seemed to wake up.  All eyes were on Jess, occasionally moving to the two speakers in the front of the room.  

"I went to Yale because I worked hard for it," Rory blurted out.  "All my life I studied and made the grades.  I put in the extra hours and tried my best.  I am so sick of you making fun of that.  You may be just fine passing through life not caring about where you're going and how--"

"Oh geez, here we go again," Jess interrupted her rant.  "Another famous Rory Lecture about the importance of a college education.  You were always on my back to work harder… do more.  I hated that.  You couldn't and still can't accept the fact that I don't want to go to college.  I don't want to be you."

"I don't want you to be me!  I just want you to be happy.  I don't want you to regret--"

"Regret?  I think we've been over that one.  It wasn't any of your business how I was doing at school, and yet you kept butting in.  Do me and any one else you date in the future a favor, and worry about yourself, alright?"

"I was just trying to help!"  

"You weren't trying to help.  You were being selfish.  You didn't like who I was and you were trying to change me.  Geez, it was like I wasn't good enough for you."

"You weren't!"

Each word he threw her way heightened her irritation and anger.  He wanted to piss her off?  Well, he succeeded.  She had only wanted him to be happier; she didn't want him forever stuck on this dead end path that he couldn't seem to get off.  She tried to help, and he resented her.  It didn't make any sense!  Now, he was accusing her of thinking he wasn't good enough?  She had never thought that yet here it was, spilling from her lips.  God, she was so angry, she could have said anything right then.

His face immediately darkened at her confirmation.  He had thought it, repeated it over and over in his head until it had sunk in and became the truth.  But to hear her say that out loud… damn it, she was right.  Their relationship lasted longer than it should have.  He should have kept on going on that bus last spring.  Then, maybe today, he wouldn't be stuck a classroom, being lectured by his ex-girlfriend about everything she wanted him to do but never would.  

He stood up and left the room.  No one was present to stop him — the English teacher had stepped out at the beginning of class.  There was only Dean — pissed off and grateful for his departure — and Rory, frozen in place.  Her anger dissipated quickly; regret filled the holes left behind.  Jess had been acting like an immature child, but she had just thrown his insecurities in his face.  Who was worse?

"Can you finish this?"  She asked Dean.  She walked past him, out the door, before he could even answer.

"I didn't mean that!"  She immediately called out.  

Jess was only a couple of feet ahead.  He moved down the hall at a leisurely pace.  At the sound of her voice, his gait didn't falter.  

"Jess, you know I didn't mean that.  You were being such an asshole!  Why were you acting like that?"  

He turned around unexpectedly, rooting her to the spot.  "I was in the same classes as Dean last year.  And now, here he is, lecturing _me_ on _my_ future?  And you…"  He trailed off.

Damn it.  She should have realized this; she should have picked up on it!  Instead, she had made it worse with her thoughtless comment.

"You were trying to make me angry," she insisted.  "Come on!  You accused me of buying my way into Yale!  When you get angry, you say things you don't mean!"

 "Are you sure about that?  Maybe you just had a moment of clarity.  A mini-epiphany?  Of course, this was the reason we didn't work out!"

"No, that's not it at all.  Us working out had nothing to do with whether or not you were good enough.  It was your lying!  Your running away!"

"Geez, would you stop laying it all on me?  Stop making it all my fault.  Stop pretending that you're the only one upset by this!"

She did stop — she was silent.  Words failed her.

"It all comes back to this.  Every single time… and we're back to this.  I'm sick of it."

"Me too," she agreed.  She didn't want the harsh words anymore.  She didn't want each encounter turning into a circle that lead them back here.  It was always a fight, and it was always over the same things.  "I want this over with."

"Fine."  He shrugged.  "That's easy.  Don't come into the diner asking me to loan you a book.  Don't ask me for anything," he warned.  "Just… don't talk to me."

"Okay," she said softly.  

"It's over.  Happy now?"  

For the second time in less than a week, he walked away from her. A sense of finality accompanied him, weighing down his shoulders. For a second, he was certain he had heard her voice. He almost thought she had said no. However, when nothing else reached his ears, he decided that it was only his regret playing tricks on his mind. 


	9. Chapter Eight

**A/N**:  My apologies for the wait.  I've had zero time over the past couple of weeks.  Thanks so much for all the feedback.  Lia, thanks for being so sweet and so damn talented.  And laura mariano!  It's so great to hear from you.  I've always loved reading your comments, and it's nice to know that you're still reading and enjoying.  Arianna, you're so helpful and wonderful, thanks.

**Chapter Eight**

Eighteen days had passed since she last set foot inside the diner.  He knew it too; he had been keeping track.  Not consciously maybe, but each night as he wiped down the counters or overturned the chairs, the thought would occur to him and he'd pause.  He would shrug it off as soon it came to him as if it were no big deal.  On the weekdays, after all, he couldn't really expect her presence.  It was the weekends that bothered him, though.  Even after he had returned to his current task, her name fading into the background of his mind as more important thoughts surfaced, it stuck with him.  A small nagging at the back of his brain that she wasn't there, and it was all because of him.  

After he had told her to stop all interaction with him, he had expected she would at least still come into the diner, all while avoiding eye contact.  She was supposed to sit in a booth, rattling off her order to the napkin dispenser, her tone even and calm.  She was supposed to wonder how he could look right through her, and never really hear her; how he could cast her aside so easily.  She was supposed to play invisible and be hurt every time she looked at him.  She was the one who was supposed to suffer.

Instead, every time the bell rang above the door, his head would bounce up, checking to see who walked in.  Even though it never registered with him that he was looking for her, the disappointment did.  Each new customer was a tug at his heartstrings, a feeling that ate away at him throughout the day, causing him to end his shift early on more than one occasion.  She was probably at home, reveling in this new technique of torture for him while he was stuck behind the counter, pretending he hadn't brought this upon himself.

He wasn't going to back down from this though.  The more harsh words they exchanged, the worse everything became.  They were never going to forgive and move on if every week they reopened old wounds that had never fully healed in the first place.  Plus, the anger he felt toward her was growing more and more due to things she said _now_, the things she did_ now_.  He was sure that it was the same for her as well.  

Memories of their last encounter still stung.  He was certain that that had been their worst fight yet.  Cruel words exchanged in a calm voice, yelling matches that insulted but never fixed anything, name calling aimed to hurt… it all paled in comparison to the shame he had felt inside that classroom as he listened to her tell him that he wasn't good enough.  She and Dean had spelled out clearly that this was the way he was and he'd never change.  He was stuck on a self-destructive path; repeating his senior year was only a minor detour.  Soon enough, he'd be back on it.  Except this time, he wouldn't have to worry about how his failures were affecting her.  She didn't care anymore.

"Jess, what is this?"  

"What's what?"  Jess asked, looking up from his book at his uncle.

"I asked you to set a table for us.  The food's almost ready."

"I did.  You're standing right in front of it.  Your vision okay?  Maybe you're just getting old…"

"My vision is just fine.  I see two plates, two cups, two forks, and two knives."

"Right," Jess said slowly.  "I'm failing to see the problem."

"The key word is two.  Why do we only have two settings?"

Jess placed his book down on the counter, and pointed to himself.  "One."  He gestured toward Luke.  "Two.  Would you like a recount?"

"Jess, you know Lorelai and Rory are coming, and they're going to be here any--"

"Wait.  Whoa.  Stop.  I did _not_ know they were coming."

"You're kidding, right?  They come for Thanksgiving every year.  In fact, I can guarantee that when they walk through that door, they're going to have flowers.  And they're going to want to put said flowers in a vase.  A vase that I don't have.  A vase that I never have.  Why?  Because it's tradition.  It's done every year.  They came last year, and the year before that…"

"They did not come the year before last."

"Yes, they did.  You wouldn't know.  You skipped out on dinner."

"I did not," Jess insisted.

"Yes, you did.  You snuck out while I was cooking and spent the day defacing public property or doing something equally illegal.  Now, would you finish setting this table?  You may need more than two plates, you know how much they eat."  Luke turned back toward the kitchen but then spun around and spoke again, "You _will_ be on your best behavior today."

"Ooh, stern voice.  I'd appreciate it if you didn't talk to me like I was four."

"As long as you don't act like it."

"Excuse me?"

"No picking a fight with Rory."

"Give me a little credit."

"After that stunt you pulled at school?  All credit revoked.  Curb the sarcasm, and try to keep the conversation limited to 'pass the turkey', okay?"

Without waiting for some kind of positive answer, Luke walked back into the kitchen.  As soon as the door swung shut behind him, Jess turned and headed for the stairs, leaving the table only half set.  As soon as he reached the apartment, he went straight for his closet to get his coat.  If he could skip out on Thanksgiving once, he could do it again.  No one would miss him.  

There was no way he could stay.  After more than two weeks without seeing her, he had no idea how to act around her.  He couldn't remember how to be polite.  All his good intentions morphed into sarcasm and rudeness whenever he got too close.  He had wanted forgiveness from her.  He had done all he could think of to get it.  But apologies and kindness had fallen on deaf ears; she wouldn't let go of past mistakes.  Now, whenever he saw her, his anger flared up, and half the time, he couldn't help what flew out of his mouth.  

He needed to get the hell out of here.  He didn't need any kind frustration from her today, or any day.  Maybe she had had the right idea with staying away.  Maybe they should have gone with that solution from the start.  

He slipped on his coat, and was halfway to the door when the phone rang.  He froze in mid stride as irritation filled him.  Several seconds passed, but he made no move to pick it up — or to leave.  Something held him back, and this same something caused him to rush forward and answer the phone before the machine could turn on.

"Hello?"

Static filled the line as the person on the other end paused.  Jess was about to hang up when, "…Hi."

An unfamiliar feeling settled within his chest at the voice.  Hesitantly, he responded, "Hey."

"You know who this is?"

"You ask that every time you call." 

"Haven't you ever had someone call you, and you have no idea who the person is, and they just assume you do?  And as each minute passes while the two of you talk, the less and less chance you have of finding out who the person is without making an ass out of yourself?"

"No," Jess answered.

"Oh."

"Jimmy, is there any particular reason for this call?"

"I just wanted to, uh, wish you a happy thanksgiving.  I hope you're having a good day, and the turkey's good, and the stuffing's good, and the rest of the food is…"

"Good?"

"Yeah.  Good... You eat yet?"

"No, Luke's downstairs cooking."

"You helping him?"

"With cooking?  No.  I just set up and clean up.  I'm… the busboy," Jess explained.

"Sounds like me.  Sasha just started cooking.  Lily's helping.  I'm hiding."

"Hiding?"

"I have bad luck with Thanksgiving.  Fires, electrocution, near misses with knives… I've got a history.  Hey, can you hold on a second?"  Jimmy asked, speaking louder as a female voice called his name.

Static filled the line once again, although muffled voices could be heard.  Jess couldn't make anything out, not that he wanted to.  He was hoping that this was the end of the conversation — not that he would use that word to describe… whatever this was.  These sporadic phone calls were an embodiment of Jimmy's guilt — they were an obligation that he felt he had to fulfill… making up for years and years of an absence.  Jess almost wished that he had never called Jimmy in the first place, or that he had refused the phone when Luke handed it to him… or that he had never gotten off that bus to the airport.

Thanksgiving in California.  Life in California.  He tortured himself with images of himself out there on the boardwalk, and he always saw himself happier.  For unknown reasons, California equaled a much better life in his mind.  Maybe because it was a change, a foreign territory out there, a whole new slew of possibilities that maybe, this time, he wouldn't screw up.  

"I've been recruited," Jimmy said.

"What?"

"I'm being forced to assist with the cooking.  This has disaster written all over it, but… yeah, hey, I'll talk to you some other time?"

"Yeah, sure."

"Bye, Jess."

He hung up without saying goodbye.  He moved toward his bed and sat down, feeling significantly worse than he had minutes ago, when he first came up the stairs.  He took off his jacket, not wanting to go out, but not wanting to go back down to the diner.  He was at an utter loss for what to do.

He could have repeated his senior year in Venice.  He could have gotten his GED.  He could have gotten a summer job at The Inferno.  He could have gotten to know his father.  Why was he still here in Stars Hollow?  He had nothing to anchor him to this small town, nothing holding him back.  If he saw himself happy three thousands miles away, why hadn't he hopped on a bus already?  

Running a hand through his hair, he stood up and exited the apartment.  He descended the stairs, and walked through the curtain just in time to see Rory and Lorelai passing by the window.  He took his place behind the counter, and reopened his book.  He turned to the last page he had read, doing his best to ignore his surroundings.  By the time the bell above the door rang, he was aware of only the clawing within his chest, and the knowledge that _she_ was keeping him here.  He was staying for nothing.

"Here Luke, these are for you," Lorelai announced.

"Flowers?  What do I do with them?"  Rory asked.

"You put them in a vase, of course.  Don't we go through this every year?"

"This would stop if you stopped bringing me flowers," Rory answered. 

"It would stop if you bought a vase."

"I don't need a vase because I don't have flowers."

"Except for when we bring you flowers.  Every year.  On Thanksgiving."

"Lorelai," Luke began, "Put the flowers on the counter."

"Luke, that was my line," Rory pouted.

"I think that's his way of saying we better end the show.  Fine, let us take our bow."  Lorelai and Rory both bent at the waist, exaggerating the gesture.  "This skit was a Gilmore&Gilmore production.  Lorelai Gilmore," she pointed to herself, "as Lorelai Gilmore.  And Rory as the grumpy old diner owner, Luke Danes."

"You're the second person to call me old today.  I'm beginning to think--" 

"You're actually old?"  Lorelai cut in.

"No," Luke answered.  "That I need to surround myself with different people."

"You can get new friends after we eat," Lorelai said, following Luke back into the kitchen.

Without the balance of her mother and Luke, Rory was left standing in the middle of the diner, feeling awkward and very much alone.  She glanced over at Jess who still hid behind his book, and then looked over at the table.  A stiffness in her joints kept her from sitting down like on any other Thanksgiving at the diner.  It almost felt wrong to be here, after having stayed away for the past two weeks.  Once again she looked at Jess, as if waiting for some sign that it was alright to sit and relax — it was alright to pretend everything was fine.

This time around, he put the book down and held her gaze.  He said nothing, but moved forward toward the table.  She took the final steps over to where they would eat and sat down as he took a seat on the opposite side.  She looked away again, down at the plate in front of her, trying her best to suppress the memory of last year when he had sat next to her.  When he had kissed her.

When no words sprang to mind to fill the air, an icy silence formed instead.  She snuck small glances at him as she waited for her mother to come back out.  The dull ache that had been present for the past couple of weeks intensified with each passing second.  She rested her chin on her hand, racking her brain for the definition of normalcy when it came to Jess.  She couldn't remember how to be herself around him.  

Guilt mixed with the ache, as she thought back to their last encounter, and she knew that if she ever wanted things to be good again, she'd have to do something to make it better.  She needed to make him forgive her.

"Mashed potatoes?"  Lorelai asked, trailing on Luke's heels as the pair burst out of the kitchen.

"Yes."

"Green beans?"

"Lorelai, I promise you I have made everything we eat every year."

"Rolls?"

"Yes, now would you please just sit down…"  

"Cranberry sauce?"

"Cranberry sauce?"  Luke repeated.  

Lorelai gasped.  "Of course.  That's the best part."

"I thought you said dessert was the best part," Rory said, grateful that the balance in the diner had been restored.  She felt the ache recede a small amount, and almost smiled with relief.

"I did not.  I said Luke's cranberry sauce was the best part.  No one can open a jar and slice it like Luke can."

"I forgot to--"

"You forgot?"  Lorelai gasped again.  "I guess we'll have to cancel Thanksgiving this year."

"I didn't forget to _buy_ it, I just forgot to get it out.  Jess, could you--"

"No."

"Would any one mind if I actually finished a sentence today?  Here, let me rephrase this:  Jess, go get the cranberry sauce while I finish putting the food out on the table that _I _finished setting.  It's in the storeroom."

"I--" Jess began.

"So everyone's clear, that was a nonnegotiable command."

"Whatever," Jess said, standing up.  

He walked into the storeroom, and headed for the shelves.  He scanned the items in front of him, searching for the cranberry sauce.  Seconds later, he heard footsteps behind him, but he pretended not to.  He kept his eyes in front of him, still looking for that damn can.

"Jess," Rory began.

He closed his eyes, unsure of whether or not he wanted to hear this.  He felt her gaze on him, a prickling near his shoulders.  Slowly, it spread toward the center of his back, and he nearly flinched at the intensity.  He wanted to scratch at it, rid himself of the pressure point that had formed thanks to her, but he couldn't move.  He couldn't even run out there, away from her.  His legs refused to move, his knees wouldn't bend.  They felt wooden and useless.  

"When I said I wanted this over with, I meant the fighting, I didn't mean… us."

He wanted to point out that there was no "us", hadn't been for the longest time, but the words refused to come out.

"I'm sick of fighting with you, I'm sick of yelling at you, I'm sick of feeling this way.  But I hate not talking to you."

He wanted to tell her that she had been avoiding _him_, but then his own harsh voice came floating back to him:  _"Don't talk to me."_

"But I think this is the way you want it, so fine.  But before we go back out there to eat, and you pretend that I'm not there… I just wanted to say I'm sorry… for always blaming everything on you… and for ever making you feel like you weren't good enough.  That was never the problem, Jess, I swear.  I just…"

_I just want to forgive you, but I can't.  I just want to move on from this, but something keeps holding me back.  I just want you to stop hating me.  I just want to be able to talk to you again.  I just…_

He waited for her to complete her thought, but it never came.  Gradually, he regained the use of his limbs and turned around, only to find no one standing there.  Her voice still hung on his ear, whispering over and over again that she was sorry.  She missed talking to him.  She missed him.  He hadn't gone anywhere though.  He was still here, still living above the diner, still going to school, still walking around this town.  He was here because of her, and she was sorry for hurting him.  She was sorry.  

Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted the cranberry sauce.  His mind jumped to focusing on his previous task, and he grabbed it off the shelf.  He exited the storage room, and dropped the can onto the counter as Luke came out with the turkey.

Jess sat down at their table in a seat across from Rory.  She wasn't looking at him this time, but instead, concentrating on filling her plate with food.  

"This food looks really delicious.  You know, this year, I am thankful for Luke," Lorelai said, scooping mashed potatoes onto her plate.

"You're thankful for me every year," Luke pointed out.

"Yeah, well, keep up the good work.  You know what would make this table complete?"

"If you say cranberry sauce, I can't be held responsible for my actions."

"Fine.  I will just sit here silently and eat, and wait patiently for you to prepare the food that must not be named."

"Good plan," Luke said, going back into the kitchen.

"You want something to drink?"  Jess suddenly asked.

Rory looked up and found him staring at her.  "A drink?"  It was almost as if his question confused her.

"Yeah, you want a soda?"

"Um, sure," she said.

"Hey, Jess, don't bother getting me anything while you're up," Lorelai said.

"Okay," he agreed, returning to the table, two sodas in tow.  He handed one to Rory, and kept the other for himself.

"I think you misunderstood me," Lorelai pouted.

"I heard you loud and clear," Jess assured her.  

"Fine, I'll get my own drink.  I'm also going to go make sure Luke is getting me my you know what.  He may not just to spite me."

"I doubt that," Rory said.

Her mother disappeared behind the swinging door, and once again, Rory was left as a bundle of nerves.  

"Thanks for the soda," she said quietly.

"No problem."  He paused as she picked up her fork to begin eating.  "You haven't been around the diner much lately."

She looked back at him in surprise, "You told me to leave you alone."

"I didn't say avoid the diner."

"I just thought it'd be easier."

"Right, easier."  He nodded.

She went back to eating, but he didn't touch his food.  There was more left to say, but he didn't know what it was.  The anger he had felt earlier, the ache and confusion at why he was still here had disappeared.  Because… because why?  She had said she was sorry?  He had accepted it?  Because he couldn't do anything about it otherwise?  Maybe he was still here because he really didn't want to leave.  Maybe he was holding out to see if things could get better, if that happiness he thought waited for him in California could be reached here.  

She had stopped him from leaving once.  Now, when the urge crept over him, she stopped him again.  Every time.  He could almost resent her for having this control over his life, but instead, he found himself trying to let go of the anger.  It still remained though, a tight ball in his chest that he couldn't shake.  Everything wasn't suddenly fine again, but despite this, he felt himself relaxing; he was almost at ease.  Yes, _this_ was how he was supposed to feel around her.  This was how he was supposed to act.  This was how it should be… how it could be all the time.

"You should start coming around more."

His words caused her to look up from her plate, but before she could respond, Lorelai reappeared in the diner.  She took her seat next to Rory and placed a plate of food in front of her.  "Don't tell Luke, but I changed my mind.  This year, I'm thankful for the cranberry sauce.  Jess, what about you?"

"Forced involvement and false cheerfulness on holidays?"  He asked with a smirk.

"Yeah, funny.  Rory?  What are you thankful for?"

She shot a small smile toward Jess, before turning to her mother.

"Second chances."


	10. Chapter Nine

**A/N**:  As always, thanks for the feedback.  It always leaves me with a goofy grin on my face.  I apologize for the delay.  I was distracted by another writing project.  By the way, thanks so much to Lydia for being my fill-in beta.  

****

**Chapter Nine******

The bell above the door rang, distracting Jess from his current task of pretending to read behind the counter.  He glanced up just in time to see the retreating back of a couple; this was his cue to get back to work.  He dropped his book in front of him, and walked over to the now vacant booth.  He shoved the crumbled up bills that apparently qualified as his tip into his pocket, before throwing the discarded napkins and used silverware onto the plates.  

With dirty dishes in tow, he headed into the kitchen.  He came back out with a spray bottle and a rag, and immediately went to work on the table, wiping it down.  He spent several minutes making it shine, using half the bottle of cleaner in the process.  After drying the surface, he meticulously arranged the condiments and napkin dispenser, taking special care to make sure they were perfectly lined up.  By the time he had finished, the whole task had taken him four times as long as it usually did.  Glancing up at his uncle, hoping to see a glimmer of anger — or, better yet, a vein throbbing in his forehead — he was rewarded with nothing.  Luke didn't appear to have even noticed the display as he served a family of four.

Jess scowled at Luke's obliviousness, which had to be done on purpose.  Jess was wasting valuable time, not to mention the diner's cleaning supplies, yet Luke didn't care?  What was with him today?  The only reason Jess had acted out was to get a rise out of him, and pull him out of his disturbing mellow state.  Luke had been acting strange since this morning, when he had allowed Jess to sleep through his morning shift.  Instead of yelling for him to get to work, he had woken him twenty minutes before school.

Later, Jess had stumbled down the stairs, backpack in hand, wondering how this would be misconstrued as his fault.  Much to his surprise, Luke didn't even mention it, but instead nodded a good morning, and told him to "have a good day" — a phrase, Jess was certain, that hadn't been directed his way since his first year in town.  At the time, he decided not to read too much into, figuring it would blow over by the afternoon.  Luke's good moods — when it came to Jess, at least — never lasted.  It was in his nature to give him a hard time, and frankly, Jess preferred it that way.

But then he had come home from school, only to receive the afternoon off.  Luke had told him to go to a movie, or take a nap, or do whatever teenage kids were (legally) doing these days.  Now, all Jess could do was attempt to cause trouble, and hope Luke would snap out of this.  Occasional kindness wasn't so out of question, but today, Luke was simply being _too _nice.  Of all the possible theories, Jess had narrowed it down to either A) Luke had been diagnosed with some kind of terminal illness, rendering him grateful for every precious moment that he had left or B) Luke was being nice for, well, the sake of being nice.  Maybe he had finally taken note of Jess's hard work over the past few months.  Maybe he had finally realized that Jess had really been making an effort, maybe…

"Are you dying?"

"Excuse me?"  Luke asked, looking up for the cash register.

"Or is this one of the signs of the apocalypse?  Should I expect fire to begin raining down from the sky?  Taylor standing over an opening in the ground in the middle of town?"

"Is this conversation supposed to be making sense?  Because so far, you've lost me.  Now start from the beginning:  Who's dying?"

"You're being nice," Jess accused.

"I can be nice."

"To me."

"I can be nice to you," Luke said.

"Since when?  When was the last time you gave me the morning off?  And then followed it up with the afternoon?  You haven't even yelled at me tonight."

"You want me to yell at you?"  Luke asked, puzzled.

"I want to know what's going on."

"Nothing's going on," Luke insisted.  "You're being paranoid."

"Luke, I swear —"

"Nothing is going on.  Now go get back to work.  Go pour coffee, or do that thing where to the untrained eye, you appear to be working, but in reality, you're doing absolutely nothing.  Or, better yet…" he disappeared into the kitchen, and seconds later reappeared with several plates.

"Deliver."

Jess grabbed the meals and brought them over to what he guessed was the correct table.  As he turned to head back to his book, a nearby woman spoke.

"Excuse me, young man, I'm ready to order."

"I don't work here," he answered.

"Yes, you do," Luke called out from the counter.

Jess turned to the lady, his hand poised over his palm in a writing position.  "What will you have?"

"Don't you need to write this down?"

"I am."  He nodded down toward his empty right hand, which still hovered over his left.

"Is this some kind of joke?"

"Yes."

The woman blinked up at him, puzzled at his serious tone and stoic expression.  A hint of frustration appeared on her face, before she finally shrugged it off, figuring this teenage kid could at least remember one order.  "I'll have a hamburger, a side of fries — curly fries, and I want them extra crispy.  I'll have a small salad, no tomatoes, they make me nauseous.  Actually, scratch the curly fries, I'll take some onion rings instead —"

"Extra crispy?"  Jess asked in a bored tone of voice.

"And a diet coke," she continued, ignoring him.  "Got all that?"

He looked down at his palm, narrowing his eyes.  "Fish 'n chips, extra tomatoes, right?"

The last shred of the woman's good nature disappeared as the lines of frustration reappeared.  "Bring me your manager."

"Can't."

"Excuse me?"

"Don't have one.  I already told you I don't work here."  He offered a smirk before asking, "How do you want your burger cooked?  Should it still be mooing or just slightly twitching?"

"Medium rare," she snapped.

He nodded and headed back toward the counter where Luke stood.  "What was that?"

"What was what?"  Jess asked, his words dripping with innocence.

"Were you giving that woman a hard time?"

"Of course not, Uncle Luke.  Why would you think that?"

"She didn't look happy."

"Mid-life crisis, I think."

"Jess…"

"You're being paranoid."

Luke glared.  "Are you going to be like this for the rest of the night?"

Jess paused, his expression turning thoughtful as if he was actually mulling the question over.  "Yup."

"Just take the rest of the night off."

Jess's eyes widened at this new turn of events.  Luke was supposed to yell at him or place him on strict cleaning duty, or _something_.  Never before had he rewarded his crass behavior with time off.  If Jess didn't finish his shift, he would have only clocked a total of three hours today.  That just wasn't normal.

"Are you kicking me out?  Or are you going to start charging me rent?"  Jess asked.

"We've been over this.  As long as you keep going to school and working here, there's no rent."

"But I'm not working.  I haven't all day.  Is this you're subtle way of telling me, 'haha, you're screwed, go get a real job'?"

"I was gong to try and put this off until after we closed, so you wouldn't make a scene, but since you already are, I might as well just tell you now.  I'm giving you tomorrow morning off — Don't make that face, let me finish.  You're still getting up early."

"You lending me out?"

"God, Jess, you're taking the SATs."

"SATs?"

"Yup."

"No."

"What do you mean, 'no'?  You can't say no.  I signed you up."

"You _signed _me up?  What is wrong with you?  How long ago did you do this, and did you happen to have a massive head wound at the time?"

"I signed you up last month.  I know your name and age, I used your report card for grades, and for area of interest, I put slacker," Luke explained.

"You had no right to just decide that for me.  I'm not taking it."

"Jess, you are making this into a much bigger deal than it needs to be.  It's just a test.  You give up one Saturday morning.  That's it."

"I'm not doing it."

"You don't have a choice in this.  What if you suddenly decide you want to go to college?  I'm doing this in your best interest."

Jess shook his head in disbelief.  He should have known something like this was coming.  Luke had been lenient on speaking about his future for too long.  He couldn't believe that Luke was actually still holding on to the pipe dream of him attending college.  It just wasn't happening, and Luke refused to accept it.

"Why are you pushing this?  You know what?  Forget it.  I'm sick of having this out with you.  It's not happening and that's it."

Luke looked away, exasperated, before readjusting the cap on his head.  Deep breaths.  "Get back to work."

"Whatever."  

Jess went into the kitchen to tell Caesar the woman's order.  Minutes later, when he reappeared, he found Rory and Lorelai — newly arrived — standing behind the counter, with Luke near the cash register.

"Could you guys take a step back?  This has an intervention type feel to it."

"Jess, guess what Rory and I were just discussing?"  Luke asked.

"I couldn't imagine," Jess deadpanned.

"The SATs."

"No we weren't," Rory spoke up.

"I was about to bring the subject up," Luke explained.  "Rory, you took it, right?"

"Um, yeah, it was kind of required."

"So, the SAT… it's important?"

"This is unbelievable," Jess muttered under his breath.

"Yeah."  Rory glanced over toward him, eyebrows raised as if to ask 'what in the world is he getting at?' but Jess simply glared down at the counter.

"Now, don't you think it's in Jess's best interest to take it?  Just in case?"

Her expression quickly did a one eighty, leaving her with a deer caught in the headlights look.  "I don't think it's my place to state any kind of opinion."

"So you have no feelings toward this at all?"  Luke asked carefully.

"I think something like this is up to Jess.  It's his future, and if he doesn't want to take it, he shouldn't have to."

Luke blinked, shocked at Rory's response.  He looked over at Jess, who had finally ditched the scowl for a smirk of satisfaction.

"Jess doesn't want to go to college," Luke stated.

"His decision.  He's nineteen.  He can decide these things for himself."

"No college?"

"No college."

"Jess, would you look at her?  I think it's physically hurting her to say this."

"It is not," she insisted.

"Okay, if you're done unsuccessfully using Rory to manipulate Jess… can we please get something to eat?  Perhaps a cup of coffee?  Some kind of service?  I just had dinner with my parents… that never leaves me happy," Lorelai broke in.

"Grab a table," Luke muttered, heading back into the kitchen.

"He seems mad.  If we get overcharged, it's totally your fault."  Lorelai said to her daughter, before turning and looking for a booth.

"Overcharged?  When do we charge you?"  Jess asked the still present Rory.

"We pay.  Just not you."

"You owe me two years of tips."

"You owe me two years of friendly service."

"I'm friendly."

"Do you know what service with a smile means?"

"Yes, but sarcasm goes much better with pancakes."  He paused.  "You pissed off Luke."

"I didn't mean to."

"It warrants free coffee."

"It was my goal the entire time."

Their banter came to an abrupt end as he pulled a mug out from beneath the counter, and poured her a cup.  The two of them had gone back to the stilted way of speaking, complete with awkward silences and unexpected dead ends.  It had only been a week since Thanksgiving, after all, and he couldn't expect some kind of miracle between the two of them.  But even so, the air between them was considerably lighter, and for that he was grateful.

Since he had told her that she had been missed around the diner, she had begun tagging along with her mother again, as if she had never stopped.  This was another truce, another test, and both of them wanted to make it last.  No more pretending or ignoring one another, no more picking fights.  Any residual anger should fade with time, especially if the two of them kept this semi-friendship up.

And he wanted to maintain it.  Judging from today, she did too.  He was still surprised at her response to Luke's urging that Jess take tomorrow's test, even thought it _was_ his decision.  Every word she had said had been true, although that didn't mean she had completely changed her way of thinking.  She didn't push because she finally seemed to understand why it had been a problem in the first place… why it had bothered him.  She was trying to change, make things better for the two of them; it only made sense that he did the same.

"You want me to take the test."  He didn't state it as a question; he hoped she wouldn't hear it as one.  He slid the mug over to her, and waited for a reply.

"Thank you."  She picked up the cup as if she hadn't heard him at all, and went and joined her mother.

"Okay, here's the deal," Luke said, suddenly materializing next to him.  "You take the SAT and I'll pay you for the morning shift and the afternoon."

"Luke —"

"No, listen.  You agreed that you would start making an effort if I let you stay.  I'm not saying you haven't been because, let's face it, you've been doing a lot better.  So why not take one more step?  I'm not forcing you to apply anywhere.  I haven't made you sit down and map out your plans for after you graduate.  I just want you to have your options open.  That's it."

A simple no wasn't going to suffice this time.  What Luke had said made sense, even though Jess still thought the whole thing was entirely useless.  Then again, Luke had pretty much acknowledged that those four hours tomorrow morning could be a huge waste of time, but still, there was always that 'what if'.  Jess doubted that that 'what if' would ever come into play, but maybe he could just give in and do it anyway.  It'd get Luke off his back for another few months.  It sure would make Rory happy.  And it was only one morning…

"Do I get time and a half?"

"Jess."

"Right.  Fine.  Whatever."  He nodded at his uncle.  

"Good.  Now…"  Luke dropped the thick SAT Study guide book in front of him.  "Go upstairs and look at this for a while.  It's not too busy down here…"

"You're kidding, right?  You're pushing this."

"Upstairs."

"I didn't agree to this!"  Luke headed out toward the tables.  "Luke!"

His uncle, of course, ignored him, leaving him alone with the monstrous book that he had no urge to look at.  He pushed it aside in favor of picking up his own, much smaller and much more enjoyable novel.  Minutes later, he was interrupted again.

"Can I get another cup of coffee?" Rory asked, approaching the counter.  "My mom finished mine.  She said that it wasn't fair that I got some and she didn't, because she makes Luke mad every day."

"So do I, but you don't see me reaping any benefits."

"Planning on doing some light reading?"  She inquired, glancing down at the study guide.

"You're hilarious."

"I was just curious.  I thought you weren't taking it."

"Yeah, me too."

"Are you going to study?"

"Wasn't planning on it."  He paused.  "How likely do you think it is that Luke will quiz me on this later tonight if I don't do it now?"

"Very likely."

"Huh."

"You know, I could go over it with you."

"Really?"  He looked skeptical.  One on one with her?  Were they ready for that again?  Things had been going well; he didn't want a study session to ruin it.

"Sure.  I'll go easy on you."  

"If you really want to…"

"Let me just tell my mom."

"Here, give her the coffee pot.  Lessen the chance of her freaking out," he offered.

"See, I knew you were smart."  

He grabbed both books, and went up the stairs to the apartment.  He still didn't like the idea of studying for something he didn't even want to take in the first place.  But maybe it wouldn't be such a bust if things went well between him and Rory.  Conversation wouldn't be so hard now.  She would have a book in front of her, lines to read.  This could be just what they needed.

She came in a few minutes later, and took a seat across from him at the table.  

"I'm surprised Lorelai allowed this," he remarked.

"I've been told not to leave the apartment with you under any circumstances."

"And there it is."

"Oh, hey, you're reading MysticRiver?"  She asked, finding the book on the table in front of her, and conveniently changing the subject.

"Rereading.  I want to see the movie soon," he explained, a proverbial light bulb forming over his head.

"Oh," she nodded.

"Do you do that too?"

"Do what?"

"Read the book first?  The movie is never as good as the book, and sometimes, if you see it on screen first, your image of it is all skewed when you go to read it."

She narrowed his eyes, seeing through his words.  "Give me the study book."

"Some movies just completely obliterate the book, you know?  Like _The Scarlet Letter_ with Demi Moore?  That's a perfect example of the cinema destroying the message of a classic just to make a profit.  Which they really didn't."

"Jess, the book."  She leaned across the table and grabbed it away, but he paid no attention.

"There should be a rule that classics aren't allowed to be turned into films.  There's so many of them:  WutheringHeights, Anna Karenina, Pride and Prejudice, Gone With the Wind…"

"That's not fair.  A lot of those films were excellent.  Gone With the Wind won ten academy awards and has been re-released at least twenty times."

"Huh, so it has.  You like that movie?"

She opened her mouth to respond, but then shook her head disapprovingly, and looked back down at the open page in front of her.  "Despite your _usual _tendency to speak in three word sentences, I know you have an extensive vocabulary.  Case in point:  You won't shut up tonight.  So, we'll just skip to the math."

"It's not just the classics though.  Today, tons of movies are made out of modern novels, or they're remakes of older movies based on older books.  It's like they're running out of ideas or something."

"If a and b are positive integers, and if a and b are not prime numbers, which of the following cannot be the sum of a and b?  A) 5; B) 6; C) 7; D) 12; E) 13…"

"Did you know Big Fish is going to be a movie?  There's also Girl With a Pearl Earring, White Oleander, Where the Heart Is, some of John Grisham's novels, just about every single thing Stephen King has ever written…"

"The answer is B) 6.  Let me see if I can find you an easier one…" She sighed, exasperated.

"I just hate how they change events in movies.  Like in The Virgin Suicides?  In the film, all four girls are successful in offing themselves, while in the book, Mary lives for another month."

"Or how they just get rid of characters.  For what?  Because of time?  Every character in a book holds some value of importance.  If they didn't they wouldn't have been written in."

"Give me an example."

"Jess, come on.  Let me ask you another question.  Oh!  Here we go:  The area of a circle 6 meters in diameter exceeds the combined areas of a circle 4 meters in diameter and a circle 2 meters in diameter by how many square meters?  A) 0; B) 3 pi; C) 4 pi —"

"Pie.  You want some pie?  We've got apple pie downstairs."

"Jess."

"Blueberry, too, I think."

"Jess!"

"What, no pie?  I didn't want to offer you ice cream, but if you really want…"

"Okay, let's just head to the verbal section."

"You ever see _Fight Club_?  I'd love to see them make Invisible Monsters into a movie."

"But you _just_ said you hated movies from books…"

"I'm just curious about how'd they do it.  Most of the plot twists in that book depend on the lack of a visual."

"Ooh, analogies.  You'll love these.  Anodyne is to pain as A) horse is to journey; B) blanket is to cold; C) candle is to light; D) doctor is to surgeon; E) infection is to germ."

"How about the science fiction / fantasy genre?  Can someone please explain to me the _Lord of the Rings _craze?"  He had to have her here.  She had an opinion on everything, and she was just dying to fight him on _something_.  He knew she had plenty to say on this.  Now if only she would let it out…

"Stop it.  I mean it, Jess.  I offered to come up here and help you, but if you're just going to just waste my time, I'll leave."

Great.  Just great.  He had pushed too hard, and now he had pissed her off.  Perfect.  Things had been going well, and suddenly they would be fighting over some irrelevant test.

"Are you mad?"  

"No, I'm just frustrated.  You're an incredibly difficult person," she said.

"That's the general opinion… but you're not mad?"

"After everything we've fought about, you think I'd let something as stupid as this get to me?"

"Good point."  

He paused, staring at her.  She had gone back to looking at the book, flipping through the pages, searching for another question.  He remembered once again that she was trying, really trying here… what was that about him doing the same?

"It's B."

"What?"

"Blanket is to cold," he explained.  "Anodyne relieves pain.  A blanket relieves cold."

She considered his words for a moment, before her mouth curved into a small grin.  She was finally smiling at him again.  Things between them were good.  Better.

"Alright, next question…"


	11. Chapter Ten

**A/N**:  Thank you for the feedback.  Huge thanks to Marissa for answering my annoying questions, and in doing so, making me rethink part of this chapter.  Location, location.  Mai, glad you're back to cheer me on and give me advice again.

****

**Chapter Ten**

There it was again, one of the few constants in his life.  He didn't always sense it, but it was there, embedded into his subconscious.  It would flare up, however, at moments like this one.  The feeling was small, a pinprick tug in his chest, but it was enough to bring with it the steady flow of irrational anger.  The curve of his mouth as it slipped into a scowl, or worse, a thin line of indifference to cover it up.  Sarcastic words tinted with an extra edge of bitterness.  All reactions, defenses to the feeling of worthlessness that surfaced when he walked into an elegant Hartford mansion, sat inside a classroom listening to lectures on his future, stood outside a private school where he would take a meaningless test.

Most often he could trace the line of inferiority back to Rory, with her unwavering ambition for something better, and her belief that anyone could excel like she did.  When he really thought about it — which he often tried not to do — she was so good at both making him happy, and incredibly pissed off.  He could go from one to the other so quickly, a switch flipped, smile to frown.  

Worse yet, she was dictating his life.  Not on a day-to-day basis, she wasn't purposely controlling him.  But in the grand scheme of things, his decisions seemed to lead back to her.  How often he had been coming or going, his choice made with her in mind.  Leaving after the accident, returning at the beginning of summer.   She couldn't save him from the downward spiral of last spring, but she had gotten him to stay again, go back to school.  Do better.  She stopped him from leaving now, even when weeks passed with an acid silence stretching between them.  

And today, he was standing outside of her old high school because she had smiled at him, laughed with him, told him that it was _his_ decision.  As if she didn't factor in at all.

The night before when he had finally given into Luke's demands, he had never thought to ask where the testing station was.  Since when did location matter?  He had known it wouldn't be at Stars Hollow High; it wasn't offered there.  It didn't matter though, because no matter what classroom he sat in, pencil in hand, calculator under the desk, it was still the same test, the same four hours, the same stiff, bored proctor who couldn't care less that this was supposedly the defining moment of his future.

Fate had to have had a sick sense of humor.  But this was Luke's doing, he had signed him up here.  Maybe it hadn't occurred to his uncle that Chilton would have a negative effect.  That of all the high schools in Connecticut, this was the one that would make him pause, make him reconsider, stir up that old feeling that hurt the most where Rory was concerned.

Jess had never been here himself, only listened to her describe it.  Intimidation, she had said.  On the outside it terrified her, but once she got into the flow, it wasn't so bad.  Of course, it wasn't for her.  This was her kind of place.  This was the type of high school in which its students already had one foot in the Ivy League door.  This was where people went to work hard, to learn, to grow.  This was where failure was unheard of, unacceptable.

Several teenagers milled about around him, hanging around the front entrance.  Everyone was dressed in plain clothes; it was Saturday, after all.  Despite that, he still expected to see a flash of plaid out of the corner of his eye.  A voice in his ear, the tone dripping with false propriety, telling him so sorry, but he didn't belong here.  Can I show you the way out?

There was no wall map, although he was sure if he really looked, he could find some kind of piece of paper with a layout of the school.  He didn't care enough to search.  However, signs had been hung up, room numbers beneath a range of last names.  Mariano.  Fell between Le and Na.  Room 119.

With two pencils, a calculator, his admission ticket, and license in tow, he headed down the hallway in the general direction of the classroom.  It was easy to find, the doors were clearly marked, and in numerological order.  He slipped inside to find several kids already seated.  They paid no attention to him.  Most sat staring off into space, no doubt going over geometric formulas inside their head, reciting vocabulary words under their breath, so rehearsed that they no longer needed flash cards.

A small tag lay on each desk, a last name neatly written on.  His was in the last row, a comforting sign; he always preferred to fade into the background.  He sat down, emptying his pockets onto the surface in front of him.  Immediately, he began to tap his pencil against the wood, his foot hitting the floor to keep time.  A strange unsettled feeling kept him moving, and he hated it.  He was never like this.  He could sit and read for hours without flinching; now, he couldn't sit still.

More teens flooded into room, speaking in hushed, nervous voices.  Eventually, the clock hit eight, and the doors closed.  An elderly woman with graying hair and perfect posture stood up in the front of the room, a packet in hand, ready to give off instructions.  He hated this part, filling out the fields of information, name, birth date, school, would you like to be considered for National Merit Scholar?

His body finally became motionless; his hand and eyes the only things moving.  He listened to the woman, writing in his name, and coloring in the bubbles.  He moved to do his town next, and then his school, not paying attention to order.  The woman's voice turned into undecipherable noise, her words ran together.  

The unsettled feeling remained, along with the anger and inferiority, like he didn't measure up to any of the kids in the room.  He hated that, being judged by his achievements or lack thereof.  No ambition, no effort?  Then, he wasn't worth it.  This test wasn't going to make a difference, not the way Luke thought it would.  This wasn't going to push him toward college; it'd more likely have an opposite effect.  What was this going to prove, anyway?  He read a lot?  He knew had to work a calculator?  So what if he scored well?  The question had never been about his intelligence.

He looked up suddenly, his mind picking up on the quiet.  He had zoned out for the past several minutes, missing the instructions.  Glancing around the room, he found every person with their test book open, pencils flying across the paper, filling in bubbles.  Hands cradled heads, fingers massaged foreheads, worry lines creased brows.  He stared at his desk.  He hadn't gotten much farther than his name.  

He stood up, doing his best to keep quiet, not wanting a dozen pairs of eyes watching him walk to the front of the room.  The woman glanced at him curiously, then stared past him at his empty desk.

"I want to cancel my scores," Jess said, handing over his test and answer booklets.

"You didn't even start."

"Shouldn't be too hard then."

And then he was out there, walking to the parking lot, taking what she had said with him.  He had heard the underlying meaning, what she had wanted to say:  _You didn't even try_.

Yeah, so what else was new?

--

Somehow, Jess had been able to negotiate a compromise with Luke, in which he would work the Sunday night shift, and then close by himself if he could have the rest of they day off.  Luke's leniency probably had more to do with the fact that Jess had taken the test the day before, then it did with his brilliant bargaining skills.  

When he had returned to the diner on Saturday an hour after the dinner rush, he had simply shrugged and muttered "it was fine" in response to Luke's inquiry.  His uncle had accepted this answer as he wasn't exactly expecting a long detailed response.  He had then yelled at Jess for returning so late, and put him to work immediately. 

The tardiness had been done on purpose, a delaying tactic to get his head together, and figure out what he was going to tell the two people who would, without a doubt, ask him about the test.  Lying seemed to be the best way out, because otherwise, he'd have to sit through a lecture in which the word "future" and "nowhere" would be used over and over again.  

But then there was Rory.  He couldn't lie to her, not after everything that had happened, and the progress that had been made.  That was just asking for trouble.  She couldn't be _too_ upset by this, could she?  After all, she had insisted that this was his decision.  She had offered to help him study because Luke was forcing him.  But if at the last minute he decided not to do it, so what?

Still though, he was doing his best to put off the inevitable.  The rest of the weekend passed, and he successfully avoided her, seeing as how his shifts never coincided with the time she ate.  It gave him a week to construct a believable lie, or perfect an explanation.  But each day had passed quickly, a mix of school and work, and he mostly tried to push the disaster of Chilton from his mind.  Before he knew it though, it was Saturday afternoon again, and he was serving her lunch.

"These are really good French fries."

"So I've heard."

"Like, really, really good.  Not too crunchy, but not soggy.  The perfect in-between.  Golden, crispy."

"Geez, Rory, they're just French fries.  That's the seventh time you commented on how good they are."

"Sixth," she corrected him.  "Caesar must be in a real good mood for these to be coming out so well."

"Maybe he got lucky last night," Jess suggested.

She froze, her hand halfway to her mouth, and dropped the French fry back onto the play.  She looked up at him, her nose scrunched in disgust.  "You just get that mental picture too?"

"Yup."

"Your fault."

"I'm aware."

"Hey, have you finished MysticRiver yet?"  She asked as she resumed eating.

"Yeah, a few days ago."

"You like it?"

"It was startlingly similar to the first time I read it."  She rolled her eyes, and he continued, "Why?"

"I was wondering if I could borrow it.  I don't have a copy, but I wanted to reread it," she explained.

"How'd you read it the first time?"

"Borrowed it from you."

"You should have kept it."

"Now, that'd be stealing."

"You're catching on," he smirked.

"Please?  The sooner, the better.  I want to see the movie too."  She paused for a second, unsure if she should go on, "I thought maybe you and I could go.  I mean, you wanted to go, and I wanted to go, and then there'd be the two of us each going to the film alone, when we could just go… together."

Movies.  Together.  The two of them out on a…  

"Makes sense."

"I'm a very logical person," she said, smiling.

He returned the gesture with a small half smile of his own, forgetting how it had only taken going to her old high school to remember how different the two of them were, to remember how often she made him feel small.  She never did it on purpose.  She had even told on him weeks ago on Thanksgiving that the issue of him being good enough was never the problem, promised that he _was_ good enough.

He hated bouncing back and forth between enjoying her, and resenting her for making him feel like this.  He wondered if she felt torn as well.  Trusting him, and not.  Getting close, and then distancing herself, afraid he'd hurt her again.  Now, she was sitting here in front of him, wanting to go out with him.  Bridging the gap.  He needed to get over this self-loathing when it came to her.  It was one of the steps in repairing the relationship.

Her cell phone rang, breaking the silence and their eye contact.  She pulled it out of her purse, but paused before she flipped it open.

"Luke's upstairs."

"Thanks," she said.  "Hello?"

"Do you think Sookie would notice if I ran off with Davey?"  

"Hi, Mom."

"He's adorable!  He's all tiny and wrinkly and gurgley.  I want one."

"I thought you wanted a cat," Rory pointed out.

"But babies are so much more fun.  Aww, do you remember when you were a baby?"

"I can't say I do."

"And then you grew up.  Why'd you have to go and do that?"  Lorelai asked.

"I'm sorry.  I should have tried to slow the passage of time.  How selfish and thoughtless of me."

"Oh, I talked to Sookie about Christmas.  She insists on having a big get together, so she can cook.  She's upset that she didn't do much for Thanksgiving because of Davey, so she wants to make up for it now.  So, Christmas Eve, our house, who should we invite?  Sookie, Jackson, Davey, me, you…"

"Lane?  Dave, too.  He'll be in town by then."

"Luke?"

"A lot of begging, pouting, and bribery will be needed, but yeah.  …Jess?"  She suggested, perking Jess's attention.

"There might not be enough room.  We don't want to invite too many people.  We need to be selfish and hoard Sookie's delicious food for ourselves," Lorelai said.

"He and Luke are kind of a package deal, don't you think?"

"He won't agree to come."

"And if he does…"

"He's like the Grinch.  We invite him, and he'll ruin Christmas."

"Not necessarily.  He could just be so quiet, we'll forget he's even there.  Uh-oh, Luke just came in.  He's glaring."

"You're in the diner, using your phone?"

"Yes," Rory answered.

"Wow, you made Luke mad last week, you're making him mad this week... I'm so proud!"

"I have to go.  Bye, Mom."

"Bye babe."

Upon hanging up, Rory immediately blurted out, "Jess said I could."

"Right, blame me, the innocent bystander," Jess muttered.

"Jess, are you even working?"  Luke asked.

"Yes.  But Rory's high maintenance, so I really can't wander too far away."

Luke frowned and then shrugged it off, heading into the kitchen.  

"So, what are you and Lorelai dragging us into?"  Jess asked.

"Christmas Eve dinner."

"Great.  More forced holiday involvement."

"Smiling is required as is Christmas cheer."

"Perfect."

They went back to a comfortable silence, as she continued her meal, and he stood behind the counter, trying not to look idle.  He was about to head out and pour coffee for the customers, so Luke wouldn't bug him again, but she stopped him before he could.  

"You never told me how the test went." 

And there it was.  The question.  Who was he kidding?  This wouldn't go well.  Here they were, getting along, the conversation flowing easy, and he was going to ruin it.  Before he could respond however, Kirk walked up to the counter.

"I ordered a tuna fish sandwich a half hour ago," he stated, a certain tone of annoyance creeping in.

"That's been ready for at least ten minutes," Jess explained, gesturing to the plate sitting in front of him.

"Why didn't you bring it over?"

He offered a blank stare.  "Forgot."

Kirk took a seat, and pulled his sandwich closer before taking a bite.  Rory covered her mouth to muffle her laughter, before continuing eating herself.  Jess was about to relax again, grateful that Kirk's coming over had distracted Rory, but then she turned to him, face expectant.

"I heard they're adding a writing section to the SATs next year.  I'm sure you're sorry you missed that," she said.

He opened his mouth to comment, but Kirk cut in, "The SAT?  I took that in high school.  It's not as important as you think.  I only got a 175, but I'm still successful."

Both Rory and Jess frowned at him, confused.  "Kirk, you get 200 points for putting down your name."

"I spelt it wrong."  Rory raised an eyebrow.  "Doesn't Gleason sound like it should have two e's?"  He asked, trying to defend himself.

"Could have a y, too," Jess commented.

"I hope your spelled your name right," Rory said.

"Oh, I did.  M-A-R-E-E-A-N-O."

"Funny," she deadpanned.  "So it wasn't too bad?"

"It was fine," he nodded, his level of discomfort rising.  

"When do you get your scores?  Next weekend, right?"

"Uh, yeah, I can get them online."

"Let me know how you do."

"I don't think I did too great."

"How come?  You didn't fill in random letters, did you?"

"No, nothing like that.  Good idea though," he said, prolonging what he'd have to say eventually.  "I'm not going to have a score.  I didn't take it."

She looked up in surprise.  "What?"

Before he could explain, he heard his uncle behind him, "You're kidding right?  I saw you leave on Saturday.  You told me you took it, you told me it was fine!"

"Yeah, well, I lied.  I opened up the test, and though the first one was a little hard.  Figured, why waste the time if the rest is like that?"

"You really didn't take it?"  Rory asked.  "I can't believe you."

She placed a few dollars onto the counter, and stood up, turning toward the exit.  He stared at her retreating back for a moment, dumbfounded that she was actually walking out on him.  He then headed after her, and grabbed her wrist, spinning her around.

"What is wrong with you?"  He asked, once he had her facing him.

"I can't believe you didn't take it.  You said you would."

"What happened to it being my decision?"

"It was, Jess.  But you _decided_ to take it."

"Yeah, well I changed my mind."

"Great.  So I helped you study for nothing."

"Why are you making such a big deal out of this?"

"You know what?  Fine, I'm being ridiculous.  It _was_ your decision.  But next time, make up your mind before you waste my time."  She pulled her arm away, and went out the door, the bell ringing above her.

Jess turned and saw Luke still standing behind the counter.  "Upstairs."

Jess scowled, but was too pissed off to voice resistance.  He went up to the apartment, Luke behind him, and threw open the door.  Would this have gone better if he had been honest right off the bat?  If Luke hadn't said anything?  Why did she have to be so mad about this?  Why did this have to be such a big deal to her?

"I can't believe her," Jess muttered.  "She's not going to be back in here today.  And tomorrow Lorelai's going to come in alone, ordering for the both of them.  Because it's always my fault.  It's always me screwing up."

"You did mess up this time," Luke said from behind him.

"I don't get why she's mad.  She said she wasn't going to make a big deal out of stuff like this anymore.  It was _just_ a test."

"I thought you were supposed to be smart."

Jess whipped around, annoyed.  "Excuse me?"

"She's not mad because it was the SAT and you didn't take it.  She's mad because you told her, not to mention me, that you would.  And then you didn't."

"We're backing to the lying issue.  Great.  Geez, it's always one step forward, one thousand steps back."

"I'm sure it's more like six, seven hundred."

"You're hilarious.  This is half your fault anyway.  Chilton?  What the hell were you thinking?"

"I signed you up late," Luke explained.  "There was limited space.  I didn't think it'd matter."

"Yeah, well it did."  Jess said, grabbing his coat off his bed.

"Hey!  Where are you going?  We're not done here."

"You can lecture me later," Jess said, walking out of the apartment.

--

"You cannot just walk out of the diner in the middle of an argument," Jess said as soon as Rory opened the door.  She looked shocked to see him at her house, standing on her porch, but she made no move to slam the door in his face.  Good sign.

"I wasn't aware we were fighting.  It was more of you telling me that you lied to me, and me leaving before we started the actual yelling."

"I don't want this to turn into a fight."

"Neither do I," she admitted.  "Why didn't you just take it?  Why do you always have to make everything so difficult?  What was it?  Decided to go somewhere else?  Bookstore?  Movie?"

"I showed up.  I even filled in my name."

"You walked out?"  She asked.

"Something like that.  Can I come in?  It's freezing out here."

"No.  You can't put this off.  I want an explanation."

He sighed.  "Did Luke tell you he signed me up to take it at Chilton?"

"No."

"He did."

"So?  What's the big deal?  I went there."

"I know.  That's the point," he said.

"I'm not following the train of thought here."

"Look, the test isn't going to do anything for me.  No high score is going to suddenly set me on the path to college, or make me work harder.  It's not going to turn me into one of those kids you went to high school with."

She studied him, silent.  "I don't want you like some Chilton student.  A lot of them were scary."

"I'm sorry I didn't take it," he said, giving in.  

An inkling of realization appeared on her face as she thought about what he had said.  Guilt set in, when she pictured him at the private school, turning in his test, walking out the door.  She knew why he had done it.  How often it fell back to this, his insecurity when it came to anything in her world.  And while she hated that he had lied about it, hated that she had doubted him again, there was also the relief that he had fixed this.  Came to her before it got worse.

"I'm sorry you walked out," she replied.

He nodded, and then turned to go, thinking they were finished.  But then she spoke again, "You can come in now."

He stopped just as he reached the stairs and turned.  "What?"

"You said you wanted to come in.  Well…"  She pushed the door further open.  "You can even make me coffee since I didn't get to finish it at the diner."

"That was your own fault, you walked out.  Not exactly the most mature thing to do," he pointed out with a smirk, moving toward her.

"Oh, you want to get started on maturity?"  She asked, her tone light.

"It could make for some interesting conversation," he said, as she closed the door behind them.


	12. Chapter Eleven

**A/N**:  Wow, thanks for the feedback.  I love having a goofy smile plastered on my face.  As a warning for anyone who hasn't read / seen _Mystic River_, it's discussed in scene two.  I don't want to ruin any part of it for anyone.  By the way, I totally heart Becka.  Also, this chapter is dedicated to Lia because it's her birthday, and she's awesome.

**Chapter Eleven**

Rory stared down at the bag on her bed, her forehead creased in concentration.  Finally, she grabbed another sweater from her dresser, and placed it inside.  Taking a step back, she once again surveyed the interior of her backpack, before consulting the list in her hand.  She ran through it, mentally ticking off each item.  When she reached the bottom, she frowned.  Looking up for the missing object, she instead found Lane staring at her.

"You have books in there."

"I like to read.  After ten years of friendship, I would have thought you'd notice that by now," Rory responded, failing at sounding hurt.

"I mean textbooks," Lane clarified.  "You have school type related things in there."

"Do not!"  Rory insisted, heaving her bag to the ground.  The strain present on her face only added to her best friend's argument.  Quickly, she tried to kick it under her bed, but only succeeded in bringing great pain to her foot.

"Finals are over.  You are officially on Christmas Break.  What could you possibly be taking home with you?"

"In that bag I have some clothes, a few gifts that, now that I think of it, I hope are not breakable, and a few books for my own _personal_ enjoyment.  Now, have you seen my purse?"

"Don't try and change the subject.  I'm only trying to save you from ruining your break."

"There's nothing to save me from."

"Rory."

"It doesn't hurt to read ahead."  At the look shot her way, she sputtered on, trying to defend herself, "Paris is taking a few books too!"

"Yes, but she's neurotic.  It's expected."

Immediately, Paris poked her head inside, obviously displeased.  "I'm only in the next room.  I _can_ hear you.  Despite popular belief by most people, including the headbangers upstairs, the walls are not soundproof."  She glared down at her watch, unhappy with what it told her.  "Repeatedly checking the time does not make me neurotic either.  He's late.  It's allowed."  She turned back inside the common room, and flumped onto the couch.

"Jamie's late," Rory explained quietly.  "Paris may stone him when he gets there."

"We better hurry," Lane responded.

"My thoughts exactly.  So… book complaint dropped?"

"If it gets us out of here faster.  Almost done?"

"Just need one last thing:  my purse," Rory said, folding her list and putting it in her pocket.  She scanned the room slowly, pausing at the obvious places.  "I haven't seen it in three days.  I think it ran away.  I really wasn't treating it right."

"Either that or you threw it away."  Lane pulled a small bag out from the wastepaper basket, and placed it onto the adjacent desk.  

"I must have been in a finals haze."

"Looks like I found your Christmas list too," Lane said, grabbing the note card that peaked out of the open purse.  "It's just a list of people.  Not one mention of a possible gift selection for said people.  How disappointing."

"Oh yeah, I shredded the list of gifts.  And then I ate what was left, swallowed the evidence."

"Is that Jess at the bottom?"

"No," Rory responded, her answer coming too fast.

"It kind of looks like his name," Lane said, narrowing her eyes and bringing the sheet closer to her face.  "Wait, it's on here earlier… twice, but both are crossed off.  Feeling indecisive?"

"Do you get your ex-boyfriend slash sort of, almost-friend a gift?  I still have no idea."  

Before Lane could respond, the door of the common room burst open, and three people tore through it, ending up in the bedroom.  Paris and Jamie spoke heatedly, the words "traffic", "late", and "inconsiderate" used over and over.  The third person, an unfamiliar male, stopped in the frame of the door, looking back and forth between the arguing couple.  

"Will you two shut up?  People were staring at us.  Well, you two.  You look scary when you fight.  Jamie, I swear, there is this vein in your forehead…"

"Matt," Jamie interrupted.

"I refuse to sit in a car with you two if you're going to bicker the whole way."

"I'm not sitting in the car with you if you're going to be talking the entire time," Paris shot back.  "You never stop."

"It's part of my charm."

"If by charm you mean shortcoming."

"Hey whoa, remember it's Christmas.  'Tis the season not to rip each other's heads off," Jamie said.

"I'm Jewish," Paris pointed out, her words coinciding with Matt's.  Strangely enough, he had the exact same response.  The two stared at each other, surprised at the concurrence, and ashamed that it had happened.

Using the silence to her advantage, Rory took a step forward.  "Um, hi Jamie, Jamie's friend."  All eyes moved to her instantaneously, causing a blush to redden her cheeks.  Uncomfortable, she continued on, "You just get here?"

"We would have been here sooner, but there was some holiday traffic."

"You should have left earlier," Paris suggested, a sarcastic edge to her tone.

"We did.  Matt, how early did we leave?"

"We didn't.  We left at least twenty minutes after we should have.  But for being so late, I think we made pretty good time."

"I honestly have no idea why I'm friends with you."  With a shake of his head as if he actually had considered it but had come up blank, Jamie turned to Paris to take her luggage.

"I can get them."

Without even attempting to disagree, Jamie handed her the keys, and watched her walk out.  The tension left with her almost allowing a sigh of relief if an air of awkwardness hadn't fallen to take its place.  To avoid an agonizing stretch of silence, Jamie took charge immediately, and began the introductions:  Matt to Rory, and then Lane to both males.

"It's nice meeting you," Rory said, politely.  "But we've got to get going."  

She picked up her backpack, and dropped it onto the bed after grimacing at the weight.  She removed her cell phone from her purse, threw it inside, and zipped it up.  Meanwhile Lane glanced over at Matt and Jamie, an idea forming in her head.

"Can I ask you two a question?"  With a nod of approval from both, Lane continued, "If you and your girlfriend broke up, but remained friends… would you expect a Christmas gift from her?  Or think it strange that she got you one?"

"Wait.  Whoa.  Why is my girlfriend breaking up with me?  What have you heard?"  Matt asked, feigning panic.

"Do you see?  This is why you have trouble making friends," Jamie pointed out.

"I know we've been fighting, but there has been no mention of a break-up.  This is serious, I should call her…"

"You ever ask something, and then immediately regret it?"  Lane wondered out loud.

"Don't worry about it," Rory said.  "It's not a big deal."

"Buy him a gift," Matt said, his voice taking a somewhat normal tone.  "You two are friends, and you buy friends gifts.  He'll appreciate it if he's smart.  Just don't expect something from him.  You're lucky to get something when you're actually dating the guy."

"Very true," Jamie agreed.

"That's true?  Is that just another way of saying you didn't get me anything?"  Paris asked from the doorway.  "We both agreed to exchange gifts.  We even set a price limit.  That was the plan."

"I followed the plan, I was just agreeing with Matt, and now that I say it out loud, I realize how stupid it sounds, but I swear…"  His voice faded out as he followed Paris to the parking lot.

"I think they're fighting again," Matt concluded, sighing.  "This is going to be the best seven hours in a cramped car ever!"  He pumped his arm in the air enthusiastically before letting it flop down to his side.

"Sorry," Rory frowned.  "They usually get alone just fine.  I think her excitement about spending the holidays with him is making her edgy.  This'll pass."

"When?"

"On the way back here?"

"Great, yes, thanks.  You could have lied."

"Sorry," Rory repeated.  "Thanks for the advice."

"No problem.  I better get going before they leave me behind, which doesn't seem like that bad of an idea… It was nice to meet you."  He shot her a smile, before turning around and hurrying out to the car.

"Nice guy," Rory commented, watching him go.

"Uh oh.  I think we're late," Lane said, seizing her friend's attention.

Rory looked down at her watch and sighed.  "Jess is going to kill us."

----

"Lane's still a little confused," Rory said, taking a seat on the small wooden bench.  She was in the direct line of sight from the bathroom.  There was no way Lane would miss them when she walked out.

"Yeah, well that's expected," Jess responded, sitting beside her.  "You two only arrived twenty minutes late, therefore missing the defining moment of the three main character's childhood.  The reason their friendship fell apart.  The reason there's an awkwardness when the three see each other.  The reason —"

"Yes, thank you, I understand.  I read the book, too.  Unfortunately, Lane didn't.  She was also completely confused about Katie's killer.  As a matter of fact, so was I.  Where was that kid for the entire movie?"

"In the beginning of the film."

"You're kidding."

"Nope.  The book had no problem fitting him in without making you suspect anything about him, you'd think the movie wouldn't either.  It's one thing when it's a surprise twist.  It's another when you begin to wonder if the person was even part of the cast."

"I guess this adds to your theory of books should stay books."

"Yup," he nodded.  "That really wasn't worth it."

"You're going to let that one thing ruin the whole film?  It was _amazing_.  I'm glad I got to see it play out on screen like that.  The acting was excellent.  I have a whole new respect for Sean Penn."

"He certainly has come a long way since _Fast Times at Ridgemont High_," Jess agreed.  "Fine, I'll give you that.  But I still didn't like it.  I couldn't stand Celeste."

"You didn't like the actress?"

"The character."

"Wouldn't that have more to do with the book?"

"I guess I didn't realize how much I hated her until I saw her incredibly dumb actions on screen."

"Hey," Rory said.  "I really liked her.  I felt bad for her for all the difficult choices she had to make."

"You felt bad?  She made so many mistakes.  Why was she so quick to turn on Dave?"

"Um, I don't know, maybe because he came home one night covered in blood?  That would be enough, but it also happened to be the same night Jimmy's daughter was killed.  His story had holes in it, and he began acting really creepy and suspicious."

"Right, so that warrants a complete change in opinion?  She was his _wife_.  I'd like to think there's some kind of loyalty there.  The guy was screwed up, and he didn't know how to tell her why.  He acted weird, and instead of trying to help him, she turned on him."

Her argument in Celeste's defense died on her lips when the full impact of his words hit.  An onrush of guilt immediately followed, a cold wave trickling down her back.  She looked over at him, but his face held no trace of anger.  There was only a steady concentration present, the kind he got whenever the two of them slipped into a debate.  His words were without vicious intent; he didn't even realize the meaning his opinion held.  She had made the connection on her own.

She had been his girlfriend.  They had dated for over six months.  You'd think there would have been some loyalty there, an unquestionable instinct to stick up for him, be there for him.  Instead, his attitude had changed, and she hadn't tried hard enough to get through.  What had she expected?  He may have been overwhelmed, but he wasn't going to instantly break down in front of her, pouring his heart out.  That wasn't him.  Instead of waiting it out and simply trying to be a silent source of comfort, she had just… given up.  

The night of Kyle's party flew through her mind, bringing with it an intense regret that she could barely keep out of her voice.  "I never thought of it that way."

Still oblivious, he offered her a smirk, "Glad I could give you a new perspective."

A silence fell then — suffocating for her, comfortable for him.  She stared at the door, begging it to open and reveal Lane.  Her wish seemed to be granted when seconds later, Lane stepped out, her cell phone attached to her ear.  She waved at them, and Rory returned the gesture, before jumping up to meet her.

"Listening to your voice mail?"  Rory asked, once her friend had put the phone away.

"Yeah, who was it that called in the middle of the movie, almost getting us kicked out?"  Jess asked.

"Dave," Lane replied.  "He's coming in a day early.  He wants me to pick him up at the airport tomorrow."

"I miss Dave."

The two girls stared at Jess, dumbfounded at his words.  He shrugged, "On days like this, his presence would have been appreciated."

"Come on, shopping won't be that bad," Lane said, as the three of them started for the escalator that would lead to the rest of the mall.  "Besides I thought you didn't like Dave."  

"Who said I didn't like him?  I didn't _know_ him.  I don't even know where he is."  

"He's in California," Lane explained.

Rory's stomach clenched at the mention, and Jess's words faltered in his throat.  He somehow managed a, "Huh."

The change in atmosphere went unnoticed by Lane, and she continued, "He went to college down there.  He left in August, a couple of days before Rory came home."

"He like it there?"  Jess asked.

"He loves it.  I'm sure we'll all be hearing tons of stories when he gets here.  He's coming to Rory's house this Wednesday."

The three continued their walk through the mall when suddenly Lane and Rory stopped in front of a clothing store.  Jess looked up at it, obviously unhappy with where they had ended up.  "I'm not going in there."

"You don't have to.  We won't be long," Rory assured him.

"I'll be back here in an hour."

"We won't take that long."

"An hour," he repeated, beginning to walk backwards.  At Rory's nod, he turned, and continued his trek.

Rory felt some of the uneasiness dissipate as Jess moved farther away.  She wanted to forget her realization, and the guilt that came with it, but it was a song stuck in her head.  This wasn't going to go away.

"Coming?"  Lane asked.

"Yeah," Rory mumbled, falling into step behind her.

----

Jess walked through the bottom level of the mall, hating every second of it.  He had never been a fan of Christmas, or really any holiday that advocated family togetherness and forced cheerfulness.  But the worst part about it was the way the public completely embraced each celebration, going overboard with decorations.  Plus there was that constant flow of Christmas Carols that were played twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week starting the day after Thanksgiving.  He could hear them now leaking from the invisible speakers, some pop group singing a cover of a traditional song that was slowly but surely losing its true message.

Despite this though, quelling his desire to take off wasn't so difficult.  The thought had occurred to him only briefly when he had sat down inside the movie theater, alone.  He had figured he could watch the film, and then he'd take off whether or not Lane and Rory ever arrived.  But then they _had_ showed up, found him in the dark, and taken a seat next to him.  Rory had leaned toward him, apologizing softly, her hand on his arm.  After that, he had figured hanging out with them for the day couldn't be that bad.

So far, it wasn't.  Lane had been an enjoyable companion, balancing out what could have been an uneasy, stilted afternoon if it had only been him and Rory.  But she had thought ahead, deciding to bring her best friend, knowing it would save the trip from disaster.  He found himself almost looking forward to meeting up with them again.  If he was going to be stuck walking around this fake Winter Wonderland, he might as well have good company doing so.

His and Rory's debate over _Mystic River_ still lingered in his head, her brow knit in surprise, determination, insisting on her own opinion, but listening to his.  It reminded him of the early days of their friendship, when his attempt to pick a fight with her had been a good thing.  Natural, even.  Arguments than were over different authors and disappointing films.  To do that with her again today… it had left him feeling nostalgic but elated.  The right words were coming back to him, slowly but surely, and his movements had loosened, no longer so wooden around her.  Finally, their friendship was becoming less artificial, their actions now fluid with meaning and honesty.

He passed a display case during his walk, and he paused, staring at the contents inside.  He had been thinking about buying her a gift since the weekend before when she had invited him inside after the SAT fiasco.  Something simple that she would appreciate, something that'd make her smile.  

After another minute of consideration, he walked into the store, thinking of the upcoming party at her house.  Maybe this year, Christmas wouldn't have to be so bad.

----

"My mother has been dropping subtle hints about the future.  And when I say subtle, I mean outright asking what I wanted to do for the rest of my life," Lane said, raising her voice so Rory could hear her from the neighboring dressing room.  

"You should be a doctor.  I think your mother would appreciate the irony," Rory said, frowning at the skirt she had slipped on.

"I was actually thinking of being a cameraman.  Then you and I could travel the world, bringing live news to viewers at home."

"Or I could come on your tour bus with you and be your full time groupie and part time roadie.  All I have to do is build up my arm muscles."

"I'd pay to see you list heavy objects."

"I think that was an insult," Rory pouted, trying on a different colored skirt.  She smoothed down the fabric, and tilted her head.  "But I really can't argue with you.  I'm weak.  It's sad.  I can barely lift more than three pairs of pants at a time."

"Guys like weak girls."

"How offensive.  Where'd you get that?"

"Cheerleaders.  It stuck with me."

"I knew being a cheerleader would ruin you for life," Rory said, throwing on a different shirt.  This time she was satisfied with what she saw; outfit complete.  "I'm coming out.  What about you?"

"Ready."

Both girls emerged in the tiny hallway containing the fitting rooms.  They faced each other, and nodded approvingly at the selections they had made.

"You sure you like it?"

Rory nodded.  "And you?"

"Love it."

"Then, Merry Christmas.  Take it off so I can pay for it."

"Should we even bother wrapping the clothes?"

"It's not Christmas if they're not wrapped," Rory said, shocked at the thought.

"Does this mean you're done shopping?  I was the only name on the list that wasn't crossed off.  Well, almost the only one…"

"The subtlety of that statement astounds me," Rory deadpanned.

"I'm just curious."

"You know this is kind of ridiculous."

"What is?"

"A couple of months ago, I was worrying about what I'd say to him, how to avoid him, how to not think about him… Now, I'm nervous about getting him a Christmas gift?"  Rory asked incredulously.  

She had become stressed after kissing him, wondering if he'd do it again, wondering if she wanted it again.  Then the two of them had fallen into a vicious cycle of a quasi-friendship that stemmed from one of them apologizing, only to let the anger return full force, sending them back to square one.  But now they were at a point where she was worried what he'd think if she bought him a gift, if she could find him something perfect.

"That's progress for you," Lane stated.

The thought startled Rory, before she quickly warmed to it.  Progress.  Yeah.  This was progress.

----

He was near the back of the store, hunched over, one hand resting on the adjacent shelf so he wouldn't fall over.  She walked slowly, trying to stifle the sound of her footsteps, so she wouldn't startle him.  She could not see what he held in his hands, but she figured he was reading.  Of course he was.  That was how she knew he'd be here.

"Hey," she said softly, bending down to touch his back.

There was no jump like she expected.  He simply turned his head, showing no surprise that she had crept up from behind, interrupting him.  Almost as if he had expected her.  He stood and faced her, his arms hanging at his sides, one finger inside the book, saving his place.

"Hey.  Aren't we supposed to meet —"

"A half hour ago?"

"It hasn't been that long," he insisted.

She lifted up her arm, allowing her sleeve to slip slightly to reveal her watch.  He reached up and gently gripped her wrist, his thumb resting on her pulse point.  A familiar tingle swirled inside her stomach, and she didn't bother to suppress the smile.

"Your watch lies," he declared, dropping her arm.

"Does not.  You're late.  Do you know we searched all over the mall for you?"

"No wonder your watch lies.  He's got you as a bad influence.  You knew I was here."

"Maybe."

"Right, so let me guess, you checked the sports store first?"

"I was shocked that you weren't there," Rory said, her eyes wide.  "But don't worry about it.  Sit, read without paying, be the mysterious loner in the corner… Lane and I were going to look around for awhile."

"Sounds good," he nodded, and then returned to his former position, his back to her.

Instead of heading out to find the book she had read about, the one she wanted to buy for him, she found herself leaning over to tap him again.

"Can I talk to you?"

He stood, and looked at her.  "We were talking."

"Then, can I keep talking to you?"

"Okay."  He slid the novel onto the shelf next to him, somehow sensing this would require his full attention.

"I've been thinking about what you said all day."

"You're going to have to be a little more specific."

"About Celeste," Rory elaborated.

"You've been thinking up a rebuttal all day?  You're not as quick as you used to be."

"I'm sorry," she said quietly.  "I shouldn't have given up on you, turned on you —"

"Whoa, wait.  Rory, I was _not_ talking about us."

"But you could have been.  We dated for over six months, and then I was just so quick to let it go.  I keep thinking about Kyle's party…"

"Can we not talk about that?"  Jess asked, suddenly finding the carpet much more fascinating to look at.  His stomach turned with the memory of that night.

"You were miserable that night, and I tried asking you why, but you just shrugged it off.  But the signs were smacking me in the head!  I should have taken you home, or sat with you, or _something_.  Instead, I ran away from you.  I didn't run to Dean, you know that, right?  He was just there… and then you two fought.  I shouldn't have let you walk away after that.  God, it was like I abandoned you or something."

With each word she said, he felt the knot loosening.  Slowly but surely, it unraveled within his chest, the intensity of that bound up anger losing its spark.  He hadn't realized that he had been waiting for something like this, a realization and an apology that she had been wrong as well.  She had said she was sorry before, but it had been to go along with him, and then because she had screwed up _now_.  But finally it seemed as if she was reevaluating last spring, owning up to what she should have done different.  And this was what he had wanted.  He could feel the calm overtaking him, this relief that his breathing would no longer be impeded by a half year old anger that he couldn't shake.

"I did everything wrong," he said.  Because he had.  He knew he had.  He couldn't let her take the complete blame for that night.  Let's face it, his behavior had caused the fight.

"Me too."

"I should have just told you what was going on.  I shouldn't have yelled at you.  You didn't deserve that."

"I should have stuck around for you.  But it was hard when I thought you were mad at me, and I had no idea why."

"Did I really treat you that badly?"

His question caught her by surprise.  He had jumped to something further than what they had been discussing.  She froze.

"It's what everybody says."

"You… I…"  She struggled to find the right words.  "You really hurt me."  

"I didn't mean to."

"I know.  I just…don't want it to happen again."

"It won't."

She tilted her head down, suddenly uncomfortable with eye contact.  "I need to go find Lane."

"Rory… it won't," he repeated.  

She looked back up at him, hesitating.  "I hope you're right."

And then she was gone, disappearing down the next aisle, searching for her best friend.  He turned back to the shelf to pick up his discarded book, thinking of the meaning her words held.  She could simply have been expressing hope, wishful thinking for something better between them.  Or perhaps it was foreshadowing of the choice she had already made.   

He liked to think it was the latter.


	13. Chapter Twelve

**A/N**: To Becka, Julia, and Ali: Keep writing or else I'll be one sad girl. Also, to Marissa. Just because she's wonderful. Thanks for the feedback. Reviews are always a joy.

**Chapter Twelve**

"You will be on your best behavior today," Luke stated, looking down at his nephew.

"Yes," Jess said, bored with this constant prodding. He turned a page in his book to show his disinterest, only infuriating Luke further.

"You will be polite and silent around Lorelai."

"Yes."

"You will help Sookie if she asks, and you will tell her that the food is delicious. In fact, you've never had a better meal."

"_Yes_," Jess enunciated forcefully.

"You will actually _stay_ for the dinner."

Instead of an immediate response, Jess picked up a discarded notebook off of the coffee table, and took a pen out of his back pocket. He hastily scrawled something onto a blank page, before ripping it out and holding it up with his left hand. With his right, he brought his novel back up to eye-level to continue reading.

"Jess."

With a flick of his wrist, he caused the paper to bounce up and down. Luke glared at the handwriting:

_Y-E-S_

"Just be good today, okay?"

Jess shook his wrist.

"It's Christmas Eve. You don't want to be the guy who ruined Christmas, do you?"

The piece of paper nodded.

"You're not even listening." Luke ripped the sheet out of his hand, and crumpled it up before launching it at him. It bounced off his head, causing Jess to finally look up, annoyed.

"Child abuse."

"You're nineteen." Luke paused, noticing the title of Jess's book. "In age. In maturity, it's still undecided. Are you reading Alice in Wonderland?"

"I'm trying to recapture my lost youth." Luke raised an eyebrow, eyeing him suspiciously. "Christmas is making me nostalgic. It makes me wish I had a better childhood, a better life."

"We're leaving," Luke said, turning around and heading for the door.

"Come on, Uncle Luke, I just want to be loved!"

The door slammed behind him, leaving Jess smirking on the couch. He threw down his copy of the satirical version of the classic tale, and went straight to his dresser. He opened the top drawer, and removed a small wrapped package. Carefully, he turned it over in his hands, debating whether or not to drop it back inside and forget its existence, or take it with him today. It was ridiculous the amount of thinking he was putting into this.

The door was suddenly thrown open, startling him. Luke popped his head in, and quickly, Jess stuffed the gift into his jacket pocket.

"Are you coming?" Luke asked.

"Yeah," Jess responded, shutting the drawer. "Let's go."

----

It was painfully obvious that not only was Lorelai _not_ expecting Jess, she was disappointed that Luke had brought him. Jess wasn't entirely sure how he had caught onto this. It was either some freaky kind of sixth sense he had developed from spending too much time in the small town, or the way Lorelai's smile completely dissolved when she opened the door. So much for the general holiday rule: the more, the merrier.

"O—oh," Lorelai faltered. "You brought Jess too."

"Of course I did," Luke answered.

"I just figured you'd need someone to watch the diner."

"It's closed. We don't exactly get a lot of customers on Christmas Eve."

"Right, right. I'm just surprised, I wasn't expecting him. I had a list of people, and everything. Went through it twice. Kind of like Santa does. Except I wasn't checking who's been naughty or nice. Just who was coming."

Jess tilted his head down to study the carpet fibers, trying his best not to lash out. He had said he'd be good today. Lorelai, once she got over her initial annoyance, would probably behave as well.

"I told you he was coming. You were too busy worshiping Davey to fully listen," Rory said, coming up from behind her mother.

"I did no — Oh. Well, if there's not enough food to feed him, it's your fault," Lorelai conceded.

"He can pick off of my plate." Rory reached forward, much to Jess's surprise, and grabbed his wrist to pull him into a different section of the house. "You won't even notice he's here," she called over her shoulder.

The pair disappeared into the kitchen, and then headed into Rory's room. As soon as Jess was sure they were out of earshot, he shot her a look and asked, "What the hell is wrong with your mom?"

"No, bad, don't start this. She's just a little wary of you coming over. Last time you were here for something like this…"

"Two years ago. Two," he said, holding his hands up in the universal peace sign for emphasis.

"She just wants everything to be good and happy and enjoyable. She really likes Christmas."

"Apparently everyone here in Whoville does."

"Why don't you like Christmas? Why must you be the anti-everything-that-is-good-and-happy boy?" She asked, sitting down on her bed.

"It takes less energy to be apathetic," he explained. "What time are we eating?"

"I'm sorry, do you _care _when dinner is?"

"No, I'm just trying to calculate the soonest time I can leave without pissing Luke off."

"You're such a liar. You're glad you're here. Free food, forced conversation, awkward pleasantries with people you hardly ever speak to… what could be more fun?" He shot her an annoyed look and she smiled. "Feel free to hide in here. Easy access, it's right off the kitchen."

He sat down onto the bed next to her, leaving enough room so they weren't physically touching. But they were close. Close enough. "Voluntary hiding me? I thought you were going to shove me headfirst into the Christmas cheer."

"I just want tonight to be good."

He turned his head to catch her eye. "It will be."

They both looked at each other, slowly transitioning from polite eye contact to an all out staring contest, both daring the other to look away first. For once, she was able to keep a blush out of her cheeks, a usual side affect from having his gaze on her for too long. Instead, she felt the flutter again, the one that had caught her by surprise in the bookstore the weekend before. It had been happening more and more lately, when she saw him, spoke to him… thought about him.

She found herself wanting to him to lean forward, and close the gap. She just wanted to remember what it was like.

He wanted the same thing. He probably would have done it too; every inch of him was pulsating, trying to get him to move toward her. But he held back, unsure, remembering the last time he had tried, she had brushed him off. He didn't want it to happen again.

She tilted her head forward slightly, her hand sweeping close to his thigh, before she quickly looked down at her lap.

"I need to ask you a favor," she announced.

The disappointment didn't register on his face, but he felt it. He didn't like this uncertainty, this constant heavy question of maybe. It followed the both of them around, the elephant in the room whenever they hung out. It was better than before, however. At least now he knew they were headed somewhere.

"Does it involve moving?"

Her mouth twisted into a pout. "It involves standing up _and_ walking, so try not to strain yourself."

"I didn't agree to —"

"Lane and Dave are going to be here in an hour," she interrupted. "When they arrive, I'm going to bring Lane out onto the porch so we can wait for Sookie."

"Why don't you wait in the house? It's freezing outside."

"I want to be the first to greet her."

"You can when she rings the doorbell."

"Why are you complicating this?"

"Complicating _what_?" He asked with a hint of exasperation.

"A couple of minutes later, I want you to bring Dave out onto the porch."

"Like carry him?"

"Yes, I want a full out newlyweds walking into the honeymoon suite kind of scene. Of course, not carry. Just invite him out on the porch."

"Why?"

"Because I asked you to."

"How am I supposed to get him out on said porch?"

"I don't know. You're a guy. He's a guy."

"And therefore we have identical thoughts."

"Please?"

"Do I ever get to know the reason behind the madness?"

"Later."

----

"So on a scale of one to ten, how much are you suffering?" Luke asked as his nephew plunked down next to him on the couch.

"This isn't so bad," Jess confided. "I saw Lorelai a little while ago, and she didn't scowl or glare. It was more of a blank, do-I-know-you look?"

"Yeah, well just wait. Jackson isn't here yet."

"So?"

"He's the guy that talks to his fruit."

"You talk to your burgers," Jess pointed out.

"No, I don't."

"I've heard you. You swear at them. Threaten them with sharp objects."

"On a rare occasion when I burn myself, I sometimes take my frustration out on the meat. But that's it."

"Sure," Jess nodded, sounding entirely unconvinced.

"You talk to yourself in the mirror."

"I do _not._"

Luke leaned forward slightly, bringing his fingers to his baseball cap-less head. He pretended to swish his hair which would have amused the hell out of Jess if it hadn't been a gesture to insult him.

"That's right, stay just like that. No one will ever guess it took me two hours to get this just rolled out of bed look…"

"You're making that up," Jess accused. "It's Christmas. Aren't we supposed to have some kind of temporary truce going on?"

"No, that was the German and the British. They had fewer issues to work out."

The pair lapsed into a silence, watching the unfamiliar program on TV. It wasn't long before Lorelai appeared in front of them, blocking the screen. Both men looked up at her with guilty expressions. She folded her arms across her chest.

"Maybe if we stay really still she won't notice us," Jess stage whispered.

"Lorelai, do you need help in the kitchen?"

"Are you kidding? I'm an independent, self-sufficient woman. I can manage preparing the appetizers. I mean, they're _appetizers_."

"Having trouble with the pigs in a blanket?" Luke asked.

"They won't roll right!" Lorelai declared, throwing her arms up in the air. "Whenever I try to roll them, they come out all deformed like mutant mini-hot dogs! It's ridiculous. And Rory's no help. She just points and laughs while she slices the cheese. Yeah, she gets the easy job."

"Would you like some help?" Luke offered.

"Um, no?"

Luke stood up and headed off to kitchen, Lorelai on his tail. She kept mumbling her thanks mixed in with an assurance that she could have handled it if the dough hadn't been against her from the start.

Seconds later, the doorbell rang, the sound pulling Rory into the living room. She swept by Jess and opened the door to reveal Dave and Lane, cheeks flushed from the cold. Hellos were exchanged, as the three moved further into the house. Lane and Dave both went to remove their coats, but Rory quickly put a stop to it.

"Lane, do you want to wait outside with me for Sookie?"

"Outside? But there's snow on the ground. Snow equals cold, it's common sense."

"I've been slaving away in a hot kitchen," Rory explained, "I have the need to freeze."

"And you're bringing me down with you?"

"She'll be here soon," Rory assured her. "And if you start turning unnatural bluish colors, we'll head back in."

Rory grabbed her coat off the hook, and shot Jess a look as she headed out the door. Dave, standing off to the side, decided to take a seat on the couch. Both boys sat quietly for a moment, Dave twiddling his thumbs, Jess staring hard at the television set. An unpleasant tight feeling hung in the air, an uncomfortable sign that they needed a familiar face to balance them out.

"So this isn't awkward at all," Dave blurted out.

His voice seemed to startle Jess, snapping him out of his trance. He quickly looked over at him, almost as if he was surprised to see him there. He then turned back to the screen.

"This shouldn't be so weird. We've hung out together before."

"There were mostly other people around. Rory, Lane… the rest of the band," Jess said.

"But we've exchanged words."

"Mostly hellos," Jess clarified.

"Ah."

"Sometimes you asked how I was."

"And how are you?"

"Fine," Jess stated.

"Just fine? You don't want to elaborate or anything…"

"Nope."

"Feeling sick? Maybe really happy? Angry? Have you gotten into a fight recently? It might help to get some of the anger out."

Jess abruptly stood up. "I think I'm gonna go out on the porch for a smoke. Do you want to come too?" He offered remembering Rory's bizarre request. "Get some fresh air?"

Dave shot him a confused look. "Did you hear what you just said?"

"Are you coming?"

"Yeah, okay, let's go outside where there are more… talkative people."

A moment later, they emerged out on the porch, clad in their coats. They immediately spotted the girls leaning against opposite poles of the stairway that led down to the yard. Rory paused in mid-conversation and smiled at them as they came closer, happy that Jess had actually followed directions for once.

"We thought it would be a good idea to get frostbite too," Dave explained as he and Jess came to a stop near the girls, pretty much standing under the archway themselves.

"You're right, it is pretty cold out here. I think Jess and I are going to head inside," Rory said, gripping Jess's arm, ready to guide him back to the house.

He looked up from his pocket where he had been digging for his pack of cigarettes, shooting her a baffled look. But before she could take a step, Lane gave Dave a gentle push and both began to head across the porch.

"No, no, you should wait for Sookie," Lane suggested. "Hey, is that a mistletoe hanging up there?"

Rory frowned at her best friend while Jess tilted his head up. Yup, definitely a mistletoe.

"I didn't even notice that!" Lane said, overly exaggerating her shock. "You both know the tradition, right?"

"Lane…" Rory began.

"We're just going to head inside," Lane said, and both she and Dave disappeared into the house.

"I can't believe she did that," Rory stated as Jess leaned back against the pillar across from her. "I was supposed to get Lane under here!" Jess raised his eyebrows, an amused expression lighting up his face. "You know what I mean. Lane and Dave!"

"Looks like your plan backfired on you."

"She wasn't supposed to know about that," Rory pouted, pointing upwards. She continued on, almost as an afterthought, "Don't worry about this whole thing, it's just a stupid tradition."

"Stupid tradition? That's blasphemy. Not following tradition in this town is like the same as kicking a dog. A malnourished, three-legged dog."

"That's a good point," she agreed, studying him.

She felt a tingle in the back of her throat, as a lull fell over them both. It turned into an infinite stretch of time, reminiscent of the way they had both stared wordlessly at each other almost two years ago at Sookie's wedding. She could sense the same ambiguous question and the wild excitement that had been barely kept at bay by the logic in her head. But in the end, her heart had given in, allowing her to break through her uncertainty and kiss him. There was nothing that should have been holding her back, like there had been then. They had both danced around each other for months now, exchanging harsh words that were always laced with a bitter kind of regret. Neither of them had wanted the relationship to self-destruct, or for them to continue on in this immature manner. But in the end, despite everything that had happened… maybe it had all been worth it.

His right hand carefully slid into her left, their fingers intertwining. His thumb brushed over her knuckles, sending a shockwave of goosebumps up her arm; she was left shivering inside her jacket. She took a step forward, and lightly touched his cheek, taking a moment to savor this, him. They were both slow to close the final gap. Each of them was much too used to the dull routine of walking on egg shells, neither wanting to ruin the fragile structure they had built. It kept breaking over and over again, and they'd have to lower themselves to pick up the pieces, trying to fit it all back together. It was tiring and stressful, and eventually, they'd give up, unable to find the connection that had brought them together in the first place.

It happened though. Jess took a chance and dipped his head down, initiating a timid kiss; he felt like warm air on her lips. She slid her hand around the back of his neck to pull him closer, and he complied, suddenly dropping her hand and wrapping his arms around her back. She squeezed her eyes shut, allowing the feelings she had been suppressing to flood through her, welcoming them back. It was almost too much, this familiarity and comfort around him that she had only been getting in small doses for the past few weeks. But she recognized this, the way the heat spread through her slowly, a warm shudder flitting through her body, and the way she couldn't breathe. The way she could get used to this again.

She pulled away and squirmed in his arms, mistakenly sending him the wrong message. His grip became tighter as he pulled her flat against him, melding them together.

"There are only two directions you can go," he mumbled, his voice low. "In the house and down the street. Either way, I'm coming after you."

"I'm not going anywhere," she promised.

She kissed him again, this time parting her lips to allow him further access. She wanted more, she wanted to remember all of this, the way he had made her feel before everything fell apart. That was the problem, really. She so often got caught him in the hurt that came after their deterioration that she had trouble letting him in now. She didn't want that anymore.

His hand traveled up her back, curling around her neck, before findings its way into her hair. A small sound, almost like a muffled gasp, escaped from her mouth, enticing him. He couldn't believe she had finally surrendered, allowing this to happen. He wasn't one to stop and question this though.

Once again, she pulled away, this time taking a full step back, causing his arms to fall back to his sides. Her fingers were tapping her lips, almost tracing them, as she studied the wooden steps to the right of her. For a full second, he thought she was going to take off, and leave him alone and confused on the porch, needing more. But then she glanced up at him, a half-smile on her face, eyeing him curiously. She wanted to speak, but she couldn't find a single thing to say.

Finally, she managed to get out, "We should get back inside."

He deflated at her words, but somehow the disappointment didn't completely penetrate him. She was still smiling. She seemed shy now, sweetly cautious around him. He liked this. The kiss had meant something; she was as affected by it as he was.

He nodded and followed her inside, walking a step too close. When she was a couple of inches from the door, she stopped, and he nearly bumped into her. She paused, her hand on the doorknob, a wonderful hum beginning in her chest, as she reveled in his close proximity. He touched her shoulder, and she nearly jumped out of her skin.

Quickly, she opened the door and both stepped inside to find Lorelai, Luke, Lane, and Dave situated around the living room, talking.

"Rory!" Lorelai exclaimed, and she jumped again. Jess bit back a smirk. "Did you know that Luke is the King of Mini Hot Dogs? He swears he isn't, but if you had seen the way he rolled the dough… We should be honored to be in his presence."

"Should I curtsy?" Rory asked, moving further inside.

"Your mother has this problem of taking small things and blowing them so completely out of proportion that even I begin to think it was actually important," Luke said.

"It's a bad habit," Lorelai agreed. "The king speaks the truth."

"And there we go," Luke muttered.

"You guys were out there a long time," Lane pointed out, obviously pleased with herself.

"We were waiting to see who would turn blue first," Jess explained. "I won."

"Sookie here yet?" Lorelai asked.

"Nope," Rory answered, slipping off her coat. She took Jess's as well and hung his up on a hook, before placing hers over it.

"Hey, do you think you could go and check on those hot dog things? And maybe bring in the appetizers? Mommy would do it but she's tired from all the cooking she's done," Lorelai said.

"Yeah, I'm sure hovering behind Luke was hard work." Rory turned to Jess. "Help me?"

"Sure," he nodded, following her into the kitchen.

"What was that?" Luke asked. "She asked him once, and off he went. I have to throw objects at his head before he'll pay attention let alone follow orders."

In the adjacent armchair, Lane did her best to hide her smile.

Rory went straight for the table as she entered the kitchen. Jess stopped by her side as she surveyed the plates, trying to figure out what to take in first. He kept his eyes on her face, mentally tracing the scope of her jaw, the curve of her lips. He wanted to touch her again.

"Could you grab —" She cut herself off when she looked up at him. "Are you staring at me?"

"Nope."

"Don't."

"I'm not."

Thoughts of the food left her head, as she began to stare herself. She inched forward. "Can we go somewhere and talk?"

"Yeah," he nodded.

He went to kiss her again, but was interrupted by a loud bang in the living room and the chatter of two people entering the kitchen. Rory drew away, startled, watching as Sookie teetered, trying to balance several plates at once. She managed to get them on the counter before anything could drop. Jackson entered behind her, Davey in his arms.

"Hi, sweetie," Sookie chirped cheerfully. "I'd suggest getting those appetizers inside soon. Lorelai has started to threaten violence, and she's sitting awfully close to Luke."

"Right, of course," Rory said turning back to the table.

She and Jess both carried several plates inside, setting them on the coffee table. Rory was about to lead Jess off into her room so they could speak privately, but was distracted before she could. Lorelai, while simultaneously popping food into her mouth, turned to her daughter.

"Sookie's here, and now the real work begins," Lorelai announced.

"We have to help her? Is that allowed?" Rory asked, hoping that it wasn't.

"She needs help getting back into the swing of things. There's also the small possibility that the table isn't set yet."

"You were supposed to do that this morning."

"I forgot?" Lorelai shrugged.

She trudged off and Rory followed, shooting Jess an apologetic look. 'Later', she mouthed and he nodded. He turned back to the remaining people in the room to find Lane openly staring at him. She had caught the glances. Immediately, she sprang up and hurried off into the kitchen, most likely to corner Rory. Jess took her previously occupied spot on the armchair.

Dave looked around the room, pausing on Luke and Jess who were both staring at anything that wasn't a living, breathing person.

"So," Dave began, "this isn't awkward at all."

----

"…And I've decided that I'm more likely to scale some real big mountain than actually surf. It was a complete disaster."

Jess leaned forward, his smirk bordering on a full blown smile. "You followed a cliché, it's your own fault. Just because you moved to California, does not mean you have to be a surfer."

"But I had to try. It's like this known rule," Dave explained. "You can't see it, but it's in fine print on the 'Welcome to California' sign."

"You stay away from the beach now? Hiding your non-surfacing face?"

"God, no. The beaches there are awesome. They're always crawling with people. At my school, you can tell the good students from the slackers by how dark their tans are."

"How's college down there?" Jess asked, somehow turning into an avid listener to Dave's stories. He had this biting curiosity that kept pushing him to ask more. He just needed to know what was down there, what he was missing.

"Same as up here, I guess," Dave said. "Just more 90210."

"Two dimensional people with overly dramatic problems?"

"Nope. I was referring to the way people always seem to be half dressed. Hey, have you ever seen the O.C.?"

"Nope."

"Oh. Well if you do… it's nothing like that."

"Right."

"It really is nice down there, but I miss here too."

"You ever think about moving back?" Jess asked, his interest now at its peak.

"Sometimes, but I don't think I would. California is like this whole new experience that I'm so glad that I went for. The change was good."

Good? Huh.

Luke came back into the room, a relatively frightened expression on his face. "All women are insane," he announced, sitting down on the couch, fracturing the former conversation.

"Bad experience in the kitchen?" Jess inquired.

"Sookie almost stabbed me. _Three _times. Lorelai just missed me with gravy, and Rory walked straight into me right after Lorelai said she didn't have to help anymore. I could have been killed."

"Are they almost done in there?" It had been over an hour since Rory had disappeared in there. He wanted to have their promised conversation; he wanted to know where they stood.

"Lorelai seems tired, but Sookie and Rory are in psycho cooking mode."

"Rory is? Are you sure you didn't get her confused with… anyone that's not her?"

"I'm positive."

Minutes later, Lorelai and Lane entered the living room and threw themselves onto the couch.

"I like it when people cook delicious food for me to eat. I don't like to help," Lane pouted.

"The little red hen would be disappointed in you," Dave piped up.

Suddenly, Sookie appeared at Lorelai's side, looking rather distraught. "I've been kicked out of my own kitchen."

"Rory kicked you out?" Lorelai asked, surprised.

"Not literally, but emotionally. I asked her to cut the tomatoes for the salad, and the next thing I know, she's stirring the pots, and adding salt to the mashed potatoes."

"Ew," Lorelai commented.

"She's gone commando chef. I thought she didn't like cooking," Sookie said.

Jess felt a pounding in his chest, the uneasy feeling of his heart falling. Oh god. She was hiding in the kitchen. She was _avoiding_ him.

"I'll be right back," Jess said, standing up.

"If she has a knife, I'd run," Luke suggested.

Jess brushed past him and into the kitchen, and found Rory standing in front of the stove, stirring the soup. He walked up behind her, and gently touched her shoulder, leaning into her. Immediately, she dropped the spoon and sidestepped him, moving to the refrigerator. He took a sharp breath, and watched as she removed the lettuce.

"Rory, what are you doing?"

"Making the salad," she explained as she opened a drawer, searching for a knife.

"That's not what I meant."

"Well, you're going to have to be a little more clear with what you mean."

He could hear a small amount of anger in her voice, and his stomach turned. "Damn it. Rory," he snapped, grabbing her elbow. He spun her around, his grip tightening.

"You're mad."

"You're the one who looks mad," she said.

"This is unbelievable. I can't…" He trailed off, and turned around, pulling her behind him.

"Hey, I have to make sure that doesn't burn!" She exclaimed, gesturing toward the oven.

He slammed into her room, and shut the door behind the both of them.

"Okay, what is it?"

"What's what?" She asked, annoyed.

"Which lie? Which memory? Is it from last spring or is something more recent? Which bad thing that I did and apparently didn't repent for are you remembering now?"

She stared up at him, her mouth a thin line, unmoving.

"Rory, you can't keep doing this. _I _can't keep doing it. I don't know what you want from me. We can't be friends one second, yelling at each other the next. You cannot kiss me back and then just…"

Still, she kept quiet. Frustrated, he turned around and muttered a 'forget it' as he headed for the door.

"I heard you talking to Dave," she said quietly.

Jess spun around, confused. "So?"

"It's not often that you get so caught up in a conversation."

"Rory…" He began, catching on. "We've been over this. I told you, I'm not go —"

"Going anywhere?" She finished for him. "You already did. You… You just don't understand what it was like to sit down next to you on that bus, and listen to you tell me you were leaving. That's it, Jess. There's no lie or stupid thing that you did that I'm holding against you. It's just that."

"No, you can't do that," he insisted. "I already said…"

"No," she said. "That wasn't something that could just be fixed with an 'I'm sorry'. Do you have any idea how you made me feel? It was like I didn't mean anything to you."

"Whoa, Rory." He couldn't believe this.

"Did our relationship mean that little to you?" She asked, her blood boiling as she remembered glancing up and finding him, never suspecting that he was… "I understood why you were leaving, Jess. I get it, I know, but what I don't understand is how you could just leave me without a word. We dated for over half a year! And then just like that, it was over and you didn't even have the decency to tell me."

"Rory," he began again. He didn't know what to say to this, to fix this.

"You made me feel like I was just another girl that you wouldn't think about a week from now. I thought you wanted to be with me as much I wanted to be with you, but I was obviously wrong if you couldn't even manage a goodbye. It was like you didn't care."

"Rory… I, Jesus, if I didn't care, I wouldn't have stayed."

"If you did care, you wouldn't have tried to leave."

He felt real, solid guilt at this. It was almost ironic the way she felt. He had often felt like he didn't mean anything to her, like he was just another guy that she could quickly get over. But didn't the past few months prove anything to her? He had worked so hard to repair them, yet she couldn't get past this one mistake that he had made.

He didn't know how to tell her, explain that she had meant so much to him that he simply couldn't do a goodbye. He had been afraid she would keep him there, and well… look at the result. He had stayed for her. It wasn't enough though, what he did for her, the idea of what he had given up. She needed to hear it.

"I'm sorry," he said. "You know I am."

"Sometimes when I see you, I think about how you shouldn't be here right now. That really, you should be three thousand miles away. I think about how different it would be, and how it wouldn't hurt so much. You don't understand how much it hurt."

"Rory, you don't…" He paused, swallowing the fear. "I love you."

Her eyes widened but his words fell flat. She was too angry, too blind. She was thinking too much about the past, stuck there, reliving it. "Don't say things you don't mean," she snapped. "Trust me, it doesn't help."

She walked around him and out the door, leaving him standing alone in her room. He stared straight ahead at where she had just been. It was a switch flipped quickly, an immediate metamorphosis from guilt to anger. He let the emotion fill his body, overflowing with it. He had to do that first, before the pain could get in. He couldn't believe that she had… she had actually said… she had thought…

She didn't believe him.

He made a sharp turn and followed her previous trail out the door. He entered the living room where everyone was gathered. They all watched him as he moved past them without a word, heading straight for the front door.

"Jess," Luke called out. "_Jess_."

Ignoring him, Jess slammed the door behind him, and sucked into a deep breath of the frigid air. He began a silent walk home, relieved to be out of that house.

Inside, Luke looked over at Rory who had perched herself on the armrest of the couch next to her mother. He stared for several seconds, but she refused to budge. She wouldn't meet his eyes.


	14. Chapter Thirteen

**A/N**:  I am very sorry for the wait.  It's the end of school.  In fact, I'm in the midst of finals.  I do believe I may be the only person still in school.  Anyway, thank you all so, so much for the feedback.

(To Becka, because while the beginning is the most difficult, the middle and the end aren't exactly a cinch themselves.  Thanks for everything.)

**Chapter Thirteen**

"Rory!"  Lorelai flounced down onto the bed.  "Are you sleeping?  You're sleeping aren't you?"  She paused, expecting an answer.  After a stretch of silence, Lorelai frowned, and looked over at her daughter.  "Why are you sleeping?"

As a response, Rory shoved her head underneath her pillow, and held it in place for fear of her mother attempting to remove it.  "Mmmph."

"Ah.  Of course.  That is why," Lorelai nodded.  "Mom, I'm doing this common tradition called sleep that most sane people practice on a regular basis," Lorelai rambled, her voice high.  It was a poor imitation of her daughter, but the best she could do on short notice.

"Rory?  You do know that you and I do not usually practice the normal, sane traditions others do.  Especially not on a day such as this one."  She paused.  "A day like this one, Mom?  How could I have forgotten, it's —"  Lorelai cut herself off, frustrated.  "Rory, the whole banter thing does not work if you don't _contribute_.  It's a two-sided relationship, babe."

"Mmmph."

"Don't take that tone with me!"  Lorelai exclaimed, hopelessly.  Sighing, she bounced once on the mattress, causing Rory to stir, but unfortunately remain still.  Lorelai then stood with a pout, her arms crossed at her chest.  Her daughter was in bed on Christmas morning, refusing to get up.  She, the mother, was one second from whining and begging.

Something was wrong with this picture.

"Alright, I didn't want to have to do this, but it's the only surefire way to get you up."  Lorelai lay down on the bed, and slowly lifted the pillow up and peeked beneath it.  "Rory?  Hello?"

"Mom."

"Rory."

"I'm tired."

"But… Christmas!  Guess what I got you?"

"Oh no," Rory mumbled.

"I got you this great T-shirt with a little duck on it.  Right under it, it says 'Got Water'.  Ingenious, right?  Not only is it a good-looking piece of clothing, but also a conversation starter.  I guarantee people will ask about it."

"Shhh.  You're not supposed to tell!"

"I also got you a pair of dangly earrings that will look great with your new green —"

"No, no!  Stop, I'm up."

"I'm sorry.  It had to be done."  Lorelai paused, lifting the pillow farther into the air.  "Why are you so tired?"

"I had trouble falling asleep last night."

"We could wait on the presents if you want."

"Waiting could endanger your mental health.  Besides, we have to open gifts, so we can then get breakfast," Rory said, describing the usual routine.

"Speaking of morning meals, are we, uh, eating at Luke's today?"  Lorelai asked carefully, baiting for an explanation of last night's events.

"Of course.  Why wouldn't we?"

"I… I don't know," Lorelai stuttered, slightly surprised at Rory's nonchalance.  "I just thought maybe you and a certain person who happens to work at the diner had another fight.  But I really don't know where I could have gotten such an idea.  It's not as if this unnamed person walked out in a huff or anything last night.  Oh wait…"

"It was nothing."

"Nothing?"

"Yes."

"One hundred percent, don't worry about it, a simple misunderstanding that is barely worth speaking about?"

"Yes."

"So… what was this nothing all about?"

Rory's words were sluggish almost as if hesitant to come out at all.  "He told me he loved me."

There was a long pause in which Lorelai stared dumbfounded at the ceiling, her eyes following the cracks in the paint that led nowhere.  She glanced over at her daughter.  "That doesn't sound like nothing," she said.

A sting of new hurt sprung up within Rory's stomach, heightening with each second.  It uncoiled in the middle of her chest, pressing too heavily on her heart.

"I think he was lying." 

----

The morning had taken a turn for the better once Rory had clammed up, insisting she did not want to discuss, well, anything.  Instead, both women ambled out of the bedroom, ready to officially begin Christmas.  Presents were opened, the wrapping paper was discarded, and the empty space beneath the tree was mourned.  They both dressed, leaving the living room a complete disaster, a sort of tribute to the holiday and their apathy for organization.

Their trek to Luke's was uncharacteristically silent, filled with only the muffled shuffling of their shoes in the snow.  The town was quiet, a majority of its citizens celebrating at home.  Most of the storefronts were dark and still, the doors locked up tight.  For a moment, Stars Hollow felt timeless.  The suspended feeling crept through Rory's jacket, making her uncomfortable.  All she wanted was movement forward.  Right now, she felt stuck.

A warm blast of air pulled her and her mother into the diner, the bell ringing melodically over their heads.  Immediately she tensed, preparing herself for the complete disregard of her presence, or at the very least, a cold glance.  In cases like this one, he usually opted to ignore her.  He had certainly become very good at it.

Instead, she found his usual spot behind the counter empty.  She supposed she should be breathing in a sigh of relief.  She choked on the air.

"Merry Christmas!"  Lorelai said upon seeing Luke.  "You're wearing your baseball cap."  Disappointment rang through clearly in her voice.

"And this is unusual how?"  Luke asked.

"That's just it.  It's not unusual.  It's routine.  But today's Christmas, and I thought maybe you'd spruce it up a bit.  With a… oh, I don't know… a Santa hat?"

"You honestly believed I would wear one of those big red and white cap… things?"

"Yes.  But I now realize how wrong I was.  Come, Rory, let's sit.  It seems Luke hates Christmas."

"I love how you jump to conclusions like that," Luke muttered, watching the pair move to the closest table.

"See how he doesn't even deny it?"  Luke pulled out an order pad, and moved to the side of their seats.  "I'll have pancakes.  I want them with a whip cream beard, and cherry eyes."

"I'm not making you a Santa pancake, Lorelai."

"What if I begged?"

"No."

"What if I simply asked very nicely?"

"No."

"What if I —"

"Luke, where's Jess?"  Rory interrupted.

"Upstairs."

"He usually works mornings."

"I gave him the day off.  Kind of like his Christmas gift with an extra bonus for me in the form of a sarcasm free day."

"Oh."

"She'll have a Santa pancake too," Lorelai said quickly.  "Extra beard on hers."

"I talk and talk, and no one hears."

"I'm sorry, what?"  Lorelai asked Luke, smiling.

"Coming right up."  He turned and headed for the kitchen.

Lorelai gave her daughter a sidelong glance, considering what to say.  "I let you off the hook too easily this morning.  The promise of presents was distracting.  But I'm back now… in full mother mode."

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Jess told you —"

"I thought we agreed not to talk about this."

"I know!  I'm just… confused.  Take me through the course of last night.  Bring me up to speed. How did we get from love to walking out?"

"We had a fight.  He said what he said to fix things, and it didn't work.  He walked out.  Then we ate dinner.  The end."

"Wow, thanks for that little walkthrough.  Everything is so much clearer now."

An irrational burst of anger rose within Rory.  She did not walk to talk about this.  There was too much traipsing through her mind, clouding her thoughts.  The night before, she had lain awake desperate for sleep, thinking about what had happened.  She went through the scenes over and over in her head, spreading the words out in front of her, so she could figure it all out.  Tendrils of doubt had grabbed at her as she thought of them outside on the porch.  It worsened whenever she remembered how desperate he seemed, or the way he looked at her, when…

"I told him I loved him after he told me he was leaving last spring.  I said it because I was scared and thought I was losing him.  That's what he did last night."

"Oh," Lorelai drew out the word.  "So… this was his first time saying it to you?"

"We're still discussing this.  I don't understand why."

"I just thought that if it was… then, it might be more than nothing."

"He didn't mean it."

"Are you sure?"

"Rory, Lorelai, Merry Christmas!"  Babette exclaimed, walking into the diner.  She headed over to them, smiling.

"Hi, Babette.  Where's Morey?"  Lorelai greeted, letting the former conversation drift off.

"He'll be along in sec.  He wanted Apricot to try on her new hat first."

"Hat?"

"It ties under her little chin, makes her look a person!"

"With fur," Lorelai added.

"She's adorable!  Morning, Rory," Babette said, glancing over at the younger girl.  "Where's Jess?  I thought he'd be sitting with you two."

Both Rory and Lorelai glanced up at their neighbor, baffled looks on both their faces.  "Why would you think that?" Rory stammered out.

"I saw you two on the porch yesterday."  She leaned forward, adding in a conspiratorial whisper, "Under the mistletoe."

"Mistletoe?" Lorelai asked. 

"The two of them were kissing, being all lovey dovey under it."

"There was kissing on my porch?  _My _porch?  Uh, we didn't get to that part, yet."

"I thought you and Jess had gotten back together," Babette commented.

"There is no me and Jess."  The anger worsened, bringing with it spots of guilt.  She tried to repress the thought of yesterday, the image of his arms around her, leaning close.  "We are not back together, and we won'tbe getting back together!  We broke up last June, and that's it!"

Rory paused, looking embarrassed.  She hadn't meant to raise her voice.  Quickly, she stood and walked out the door, heading for home.

Luke watched this unfold from the entrance to the kitchen, frowning.  As soon as Rory had hit the door, Lorelai stood up, and looked over at him, apologetically.  He nodded, and she turned and mumbled a goodbye to Babette before following the path her daughter had taken.

A moment later, Luke was up the stairs at the apartment door.  He entered and found Jess standing in front of the open refrigerator.

At the sound of the door closing, Jess looked up.  "There's no food in here."

"There's food down in the diner."

"I'd rather just eat up here.  If I come downstairs, you'll put me to work."

"She's not down there, Jess."

Immediately, he stiffened.  "Who?"

"So now we're back to this game.  You know who."

Jess closed the refrigerator, giving up on his search and took a seat at the table.  He glanced up at Luke.  "She left?"

"How'd you know she was here?"

"I was on my way down when she had her little tantrum."

"You heard that?"  Luke asked.

"Yup.  What she said is old news.  Don't know why everyone's dwelling on it."

"What happened?"

"Uh, I think Rory had a meltdown in the middle of the diner and then stormed out.  And then you came up here…"

"Last night."

"You had dinner at the Gilmores?"  Jess offered.

"And you didn't."

"Sorry about that.  I couldn't repress the urge to leave.  It's kind of this thing I do."

"What happened?"

"I yelled at her.  Made her feel horrible.  Made her cry.  You know, the same old stuff," Jess waved it off, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

"Jess."

"What?"  The word came out annoyed, frustrated.  He had become so sick of all of this.

"I am not blaming you for anything that happened last night.  I just want to know what it _is_ that happened."

"I'm going out."  Jess stood but before he could take a step, Luke moved forward and pointed to the chair.

"Sit."

Jess dropped back down, irritated.

"What happened?"  Luke repeated.

"Nothing happened.  She's just mad at me."

"Why?"

"She's been mad at me for the past six months.  There's a whole assortment of reasons.  Take your pick."

"So that's it?  You two were talking and then she exploded on you for something that happened months ago?"

"Yup.  That Rory Gilmore… she's unpredictable."

"I don't buy it."

"You don't have to."

"Look, Jess, I'm just trying to help, so —"

"Jesus, you don't have to play the 'concerned parent' card, alright?  I don't need your help, or anyone else's for that matter.   I'm just fine."

"You two were getting along perfectly fine when we got there last night.  Rory was the one who invited you!"

Jess stood up again, this time brushing past Luke.

"Come on, Jess.  I'm not trying to make you mad, I'm just —"

"Trying to help," Jess finished for him, spinning back around at the door.  "You can't help with this.  There is nothing to help.  I told Rory I loved her, and she turned me down.  See?  It's over.  There's nothing to fix."  He threw open the door and slammed it shut behind him.

Luke simply stared.

----

Rory arrived home quickly, after nearly running down all the sidewalks.  She shrugged off her coat, and went to hang it up but paused when she found something in the way.  She hadn't noticed it earlier that morning, having tugged her own jacket off the hook with only a half glance, on the way out the door.  But now she saw that hers had been covering someone else's up.  And then she remembered.  Jess.

She pulled it down, and put hers in the empty spot.  She would have to bring this to him.  It would be very unfortunate if he were to freeze to death without it.  Not to mention, mostly her fault.  She was the one who had made him walk out without it.  She was the one who had avoided him.  But he had deserved that.  He had kissed her, making her think that yes, the two of them could start again, and this time work.  He would tell her things now.  She could trust him.  An hour later, and he was talking to Dave about the perks of leaving home for California.

She wanted to forget it.  She wanted the hurt and dishonesty to end.  But the images of their bus ride came rushing back, bringing it with that old familiar feeling she had come to associate with Jess.  Pain.  He was like some sort of expert in hurting her, and she hated it.  Sometimes, she thought she hated him.  It was this constant wavering, love, hate, anger, pleasure; a thin line separating it all.  Maybe this was the best they could do.  Maybe they couldn't be happy again.

Sitting on the couch, she let the jacket lie in her lap.  She felt a lump against her leg, something thick in one of the pockets.  Curious, she reached in and pulled out a wrapped, rectangular gift.  If she didn't know any better, she would have guessed it to be a jewelry box.  She ran her fingers along it, looking for a name, or any other clue.  When she saw the small _R_ printed in the corner, she dropped it, stung.

It was for her.

Immediately, she shoved it back into his pocket and pushed the coat away.  Looking away from it, she remembered hanging it up, him standing only a breath behind her.  Close, leaning close.

_If I didn't care, I wouldn't have stayed._

He didn't care.  Not in the way he claimed.  He couldn't.  After everything that had happened, there was no way he could.  How could he feel that through all the anger?  He was just doing what she had done.  Saying anything to fix things.  Doing anything to fix things.  It never helped.

_I'm sorry.  You know I am._

This was guilt, new and fresh and foreign.  She knew he was sorry.  She knew he wanted things to be good again.  It was what she wanted too.  He understood now that in order for things to get better, they had to speak to each other.  Be honest with each other.

_I love you. _

Oh god.

----

It was late when she finally returned to diner.  The sign on the door said "Closed", but she saw Luke inside, wiping down the counter.  She knocked and he nodded, signaling that he had not yet locked up.  She entered, Jess's jacket in her hand.

"Hi, Luke."

"Hey, Rory.  Coffee?"

She stepped closer to the counter.  "Actually, I was wondering if Jess was home."

"Yeah, he's upstairs."

"Can I go…"

"No."  Surprise registered on her face, and Luke hurried on, "He's on the phone.  With his dad."

"Oh."

"He calls.  Sometimes.  Once in a while," he clarified.  "To say hi."

"I know.  Jess told me."  She paused, sitting down.  "I guess I'll have that coffee then?"

"I don't know how long he's going to be.  Maybe you should just… head home."

"I really need to talk to him."

"I'm not sure he wants to… talk to you."

There was that deer caught in the headlights look again.  "He's mad at me, and I want him to not be," Rory explained.

Luke kind of half shrugged, half nodded, and poured her a mug of coffee.  He slid it in front of her.

"I think I made a mistake," Rory said quietly.

"I think you did too."

She fingered her coffee cup, but instead of taking a sip, she stared at Luke, eyes wide.

"He's trying, Rory."

"I know."

"He's here."

"That shouldn't be something he should get congratulated on.  You're here, I'm here.  I didn't try to skip town."

"You didn't meet your dad at closing time or find out you weren't graduating.  You didn't have to think about how you were going to explain it to the people around you."

"Are you saying this is my fault?"  Rory asked.

"No, what I'm saying is… it's not all about you."  His voice was gentle, trying to get her to understand.  "Jess running away had very little to do with you when you think about everything else."

Rory stared down into her cup, silent.

"But despite everything else, you were enough to stay for."

And there it was.  Rory tried to swallow, but her throat was too dry.

A thumping came down the stairs that caused both Rory and Luke to look over at the curtain.  Jess was heard before he was seen.

"Luke, have you seen my co—"  He broke off his train of thought as soon as he spotted Rory at the counter.  "Never mind," he finished, and headed for the exit.

After a slight hesitation, Rory jumped off the stool and headed after him.

"Jess!"

He kept walking.

"Jess, wait!"  She caught up beside him.  "Jess?"

"I have to keep moving.  Can't let the hypothermia set in."

"Here," she said, offering his jacket.  "You left it at my house."

"Great, thanks," he replied, grabbing it, and walking faster.

She kept up with him.  "Jess, can we talk.  Please."

"I'm kind of busy here."

"You need to stop walking away."

He froze, and she did as well.  He scowled at the snowy sidewalk before meeting her eyes. 

"Whenever we fight, you always walk away before we have a chance to fix it," she said.

"Right.  I walk away.  You can add that to the list of other things I do wrong."

"Stop.  I don't want to fight tonight.  I want to make this better."

"You know what, Rory?  I don't care."

"Don't say that.  I just… I wanted to say I was sorry.  I want to fix this."

"There's nothing to fix.  You said it yourself in the diner this morning."

"You heard that?"

"Look, we've been in this weird, fucked up fight since June.  At this point, I don't care anymore.  I don't need this, Rory.  I don't _want_ this.  I don't want —" 

He cut himself off quickly, only half sure how he was going to finish the sentence.  Rory seemed to get it though.  The unspoken 'you' reverberated through her head, sinking in deep.  Her.  He didn't want her.

"I'm sorry," she said blankly.

He heard tears in her voice, and waited for the first to fall.  Instead, she turned away and continued on without him.

----

Jess was very lucky she had left before she had begun crying.  He had been convinced that he was going to have to watch.  Her tears had the uncanny ability to pull guilt out of the dark crevice he had shoved it in.  It would settle over him, invading his thoughts.  He did not want to feel guilty about this.  He had said what he needed to say, and that was that.

It was funny how much easier this was when he no longer cared.

That had been the tricky part.  Letting the anger blur any other lingering thought of love for her or self-loathing for himself.  He refused to feel hurt at her disregard for what he said.  She didn't believe him?  Fine.  Whatever.  He could deal with that as long as he didn't have to deal with her. 

It was a sobering effect, realizing that all the effort that had been put in over the past few months was for nothing.  He had gotten a last kiss, and a brush off.  He had gotten mind games, and harsh words, and lingering glances.  He had gotten anger, and desire, and pain, and ache.  It was all mixed in there, this one big knot of the end of their relationship, twisted and tight, and unforgiving.  She didn't need him.  Fine.  He didn't need her.

He did not want to hear her empty apologies so she would stop feeling bad.  He did not want to give in so she can sleep better at night.  It was unfair that she could do something wrong, and then fix everything with one 'I'm sorry'.  He wasn't going to do it this way.  Screw it.  He wasn't going to do it at all.

Jess sat back on his bed, his jacket in his lap.  He hadn't noticed it early, too preoccupied with escaping Rory, but it was heavier.  There was a package in one of his pockets, sticking out quite obviously.  He pulled it out, accidentally bringing out his gift as well.  He shot the smaller box a disproving look, unhappy to have found it at all.

On the other package, he found his name written in Rory's neat, small script.  Huh.  She had gotten him a Christmas gift.

It crossed his mind to return it, leave it on her front porch where she could find it.  Show her just how serious he was.  But his curiosity urged him to open it.  Why give it back?  He didn't owe her anything.

Old School.  Tobias Wolff.  _This Boy's Life,_ was Jess's immediate thought.  He turned the book over, and glanced at the description on the back.

He scanned it, finding it was about a Jewish teen at a prep school in New England in 1960.  The boy was in a literary contest, and the winners were rewarded the chance to meet with the famous author of the day.  There were three different opportunities for three different authors.

Robert Frost.  Jess internally shrugged at the name, unimpressed.  The poet had become almost a cliché in his head thanks to the repetition of his best known poem at ceremonies and in commercials.

Ayn Rand.  Well.  It seemed as if Rory had wanted him to hate the gift.

Ernest Hemingway.

Oh.  God.  He wanted to swear, or throw something.  He wanted to pace around the room, until he had emptied his head of all thought.

Here it was in his hands, all wrapped up in a hardcover novel.  This was what he and Rory had bonded over in the beginning.  Rand, Hemingway, a literary fight they got into again and again, one he could recite in his sleep.  They had loved to pit these two authors against each other, teasing about their foibles, highlighting their better qualities.  That was when their fighting always had an underlying pleasant quality to it.  When their debates had had the right kind of heat that he could always heighten with just one touch.

This was it.  Them.  Their connection.

This was why he stayed.

Guilt, old and familiar, crept over him.  His fingers felt heavy as he touched the cover.

He began to read.


	15. Chapter Fourteen

**A/N**:  Meep.  Sorry for the long wait.  I had a bit of a block.  Thanks so much for the fantastic feedback I received on the last chapter.  I so appreciate the kind and helpful words.  And thanks to Mai for being a wonderful art goddess and a groovy friend.

(For Becka and Lee)

****

**Chapter Fourteen**

Absently, she tugged on the silver chain she wore around her neck, her fingertips brushing against the small charm that hung in the middle.  The metal was warm against her skin, sometimes to the point where it felt like a slow burn, a feeling she had long ago begun to associate with him.  Once in a while, she glanced at the mirror, lifting the necklace to check that it hadn't left a scorched imprint behind.  But she always found herself unmarred, and let the chain fall back into place.  It was real, she came to realize.  It was probably expensive too.  It was beautiful and undeniably simple, and already she was emotionally attached.

The necklace slipped out of her grasp, as she removed another book from the box, returning to the task at hand.  For the past hour, she had been sitting in the middle of her bedroom floor, tearing the last year of her life apart.  These were all the small details, the trivial objects of each month:  books, CDs, tickets to the movies or concerts.  There were smaller trinkets, like the miniature umbrella she had asked to be put in her coke at a restaurant, and the small, plastic monkey that had hung from Jess's fancy drink.  She had always been a packrat, and in this moment, she never regretted it more.

There was so much spread out on the carpet around her.  All the little things, taken from one box prepared to enter another.  They all seemed so arbitrary now, meaningless and ridiculous for being kept for so long.  But each had a past attached, a story to tell, or a kiss to remember.  They all came with these permanent impressions, faint tugs on the heartstrings.  It was why it all had to go.  It was time.

Flipping through the worn paperback, her eyes were met with his untidy handwriting shoved into most of the margins.  Her memory failed her now.  She could not remember the original owner of most of the books she pulled out.  His notes dusted over the pages did nothing to provide a clue.  He had never really shown regard for others' personal property, so it could have belonged to either of them.  Letting out a resigned sigh, she dropped it into the new box.  It didn't matter anymore; he could have it. 

Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted her mother hovering by the doorway.  Lorelai had taken a few steps inside, but for the most part, seemed hesitant to approach her daughter.  She was too busy studying her, trying to figure out what exactly she was watching.

"Rory?"

"Yeah?"  She didn't look up.

"I just happened to pass the hallway closet.  The closet that we rarely ever venture into.  The closet full of all the junk that we refuse to throw away, but also don't want lying around.  The closet that should be marked with yellow tape that reads 'Hazardous'."

"I know of this closet."

"Well… it was open."

"Yes."

"Oh, so you noticed too?" Lorelai asked.  "Because there was a box taken from the top shelf.  It was just sitting in the doorway, open and alone."

"That's because we don't label things and I couldn't tell which was which."

"Right, right," Lorelai nodded.  "So you were looking for something?"

"Yes."

"And you found it?"

"Yes."

This was like pulling teeth.  The aforementioned something was sitting right here in front of Rory, and yet she wasn't explaining.  Lorelai had already figured out what had been taken down.  She knew it as soon as she saw the closest door ajar.  Thinking back to last night, and the way Rory had acted after she came home… well, it wasn't hard to put two and two together.

"You have a second box," Lorelai commented.

"I needed another one."

"For the emotional baggage?"

Rory finally glanced up.  Lorelai was surprised to find her daughter's eyes wide, brimming with a sharp kind of hurt.  Her motherly instinct immediately heightened, and she took a seat on the floor in one of the few empty spaces.

"Rory, is this your Jess box?"

"I'm trying to separate my stuff from his," she answered, although it was for the wrong question.  "All his stuff goes into this new box," she gestured over to it, "and all of my stuff that relates to him goes back in the old one.  And then the old one goes back into the closest."

Lorelai frowned as she listened.  Rory had spoken in a very matter of fact tone of voice, as if this whole thing was some sort of set plan complete with structure and rules.  She had put thought into this; she had done her best to fully figure this out.

"And the new box?" Lorelai asked, prodding her along.

"Goes to Jess."

"Right."

"At the end of a relationship, you return the other person's belongings.  Not only is it polite, but it helps with the healing process and moving on," Rory recited.  Every word that came out of her mouth sounded like textbook knowledge.

"Honey, hasn't it been the end of the relationship for a while?  You guys broke up back in…"

"June," Rory filled in for her.  "I know, I can't believe I didn't think to do it then.  I guess I just thought…"  She trailed off, dropping the pile of CDs she held into the new box.  Then, she simply let her hands fall into her lap.  "I don't know.  I wasn't thinking, I guess," she said, her voice losing the robotic tone.  She sniffed back what Lorelai thought were tears, although she saw no solid evidence to back this up. 

"It's alright if you wanted to get back together," Lorelai reassured her.  "You and Jess… well, ah, you and Jess were close, closer… you kind of had a good thing going at first."

"You hated Jess, shouldn't you be happy about this?"

"Happy about my daughter being upset?"

"I'm not upset," Rory snapped, contradicting her appearance.

"Look, I may not have liked him.  I may have even strongly, strongly disliked him," she continued, doing her best not to use the word 'hate', "but he made you happy.  When you broke up, yes I was relieved because by that point, you were miserable with him.  But if I thought you two could be together again while not being completely miserable, I would be, uh, that thing where you smile a lot and try to feel good for the other person, uh…"

"Fake happiness?"

"Yes!  Thank you, you read my mind."

"It's not going to happen."

"What brought all this on?" Lorelai inquired, fishing for details of last night's events.  Something serious must have happened for Rory to be this adamant about the end.

"He said he didn't want me.  Not anymore."

Lorelai, channeling the spirit of something much like a goldfish, opened and closed her mouth dumbly.  The words stung her, despite being directed at someone else.

"He really said that?" she finally managed to get out.

"Doesn't matter," Rory shrugged.  "It's over.  Really, _really_ over."

"I'm sorry, babe," Lorelai said quietly, moving a little closer.

"It's been a long time coming.  We've been breaking up over and over again for the past few months.  It's just…"  She paused, her voice cracking.  "I just didn't realize it could hurt this bad."

"Oh, honey…" 

Lorelai held out her arms and Rory climbed into them, tears slipping down her face; she cried into her mother's shoulder.

----

Rory waited until the next day to seek out Jess, letting one day of silence pass between them so she could ready herself, and he could (hopefully) cool off.  She wanted their meeting to be amicable, and to leave her with some sense of closure.  She no longer had hope that they'd figure each other out and move forward; she just wanted a peaceful acceptance.  Besides, they had already had a couple of second chances, and she was positive that they had never panned out thanks to her pent-up emotion.

It was late morning when she headed to the diner.  The sun was bright, melting the snow on the ground, allowing small patches of green grass to poke through.  Christmas decorations were still strung about the square, and would continue to hang until New Year's Eve when they'd be replaced with celebratory items for the impending year.  Most of the town was out and about, chatting happily about their Christmas and post holiday experience; it felt too light and cheery for Rory's mood.

Nonetheless, she ignored the surrounding storybook scenery, and continued down the sidewalk, the brown box in her hands.  Halfway to the diner, she felt a presence behind her, and seconds later, Lane and Dave were walking beside her.

"Rory, hey!" Lane exclaimed, Dave joining in on the greeting.

"Hey guys," she forced a smile.  "How was your Christmas?"

"Mama bought Dave a present."

"I thought we agreed to not bring this up.  In fact, I thought we decided to pretend it never happened," Dave complained.

"What did she get him?" Rory asked, temporarily forgetting her mission.

"A bible," Lane answered, practically bubbling over with mirth.  "A new one with an imitation black leather cover that contains both the Old and New Testament."

"Oh god," Dave muttered, going unnoticed.

"She said it was for when he wanted to do some light reading," Lane finished.

"Your mother never had a sense of humor before we began dating!" Dave insisted.

"She really got you a bible?" Rory asked.  "Aw, it's like this inside joke between you two."

"She likes him," Lane nodded.  "I think he's an honorary Korean now."

"Do I get some kind of membership card?" Dave asked.

His question went unanswered as Rory did her best to bite back a sigh as she repositioned the box she held.  The edges were beginning to dig into her hands, and damn, did those hardcover classics weigh a lot.

"Do you want me to carry that?" Dave offered.  "It's just… you're lugging that huge thing around and I'm the only guy here… it feels like I should be carrying that."

"Thanks for the gentlemanly offer," Rory said.  "But _I _have to carry it."

"_You_?" Lane enunciated.  "Is it like some rite of passage?"

"Kind of."  Rory paused, holding back.  But then the news inside her jumped, as if trying to force its way out.  She wanted to tell someone, and it might as well be her best friend.  "It's Jess's stuff."

Lane and Dave exchanged a glance.  "His stuff?" Lane looked over at the box, but the top was closed.  "Does this mean..."

"It's over," Rory finished.

"But hasn't it," Dave began but Rory quickly swooped in.

"Done.  Trust me."

"Wow, that fight at your house must have been huge," Lane said.

"Yeah, it kind of was.  And we talked, or uh, yelled on Christmas too.  It's just… better this way."

The trio finally reached the diner, but as if some invisible wall stood in their way, all of them stopped simultaneously.

"Diner," Dave gestured.

"Yup," Lane nodded.  "It is."

"It's okay," Rory reassured them.  "I would go in, but I need someone to get the door for me."

"Oh, right!"  Dave jumped ahead and held it open.  "And there is my chivalrous act for the day," he said as Rory swept past him inside.

Immediately, she charged upstairs, leaving Lane and Dave to their own devices.  Once she reached the door of the apartment, she hesitated briefly, unsure and almost unwilling to do this.  Then, she heaved the box onto her bent knee, freeing a hand, and opened the door.

Jess, lying on his bed with a book, looked up in surprise at the disturbance.  He watched as Rory gracelessly stumbled inside, shutting the door with her leg.  Then, with her balance restored and her determination intact, she walked straight over to where he sat, and dropped the box at the foot of the bed.

"What is this?" Jess asked, having no idea what to say or do.  He wasn't prepared for this sudden appearance, and he was still up in the air about his feelings toward her.  He had been so angry at her, but had felt the guilt full force when he turned her away.

"It's your stuff," she stated.

Jess raised an eyebrow and leaned forward, opening the top.  Even though she had told him so, he was still surprised to see old books and CDs of his piled on top of each other.

"Why are you…" He looked up, letting the rest of the unsaid question hang in the air.

"You're supposed to give the person their stuff back at the end of the relationship," she explained, recalling what she had said to her mother.

Jess shook his head.  "I don't want this."

"It's _your_ stuff.  I should have given it back months ago."

He reached inside and lifted out a hardcover copy of Adele.  He fingered it carefully, as if smoothing out the cover.  "I bought this for you."

"I don't want it," she said.  "You paid for it, you should get it."

"This was a _gift_," Jess insisted.  He extended his hand, trying to give it to her; she took a step back.  "Rory, I don't want this stuff," he repeated.

"Would you just take it?" she asked.  "Why are you trying to make this so difficult?"

"_Me_?" He shot up, annoyed.  "I'm not trying to make anything difficult.  You're the one who's always turning everything into a god damn argument."

"No, stop it," she warned, taking a few steps back, closer to the door.  "This is _not_ supposed to turn into a fight.  I'm supposed to give this back, leave, and forget about it.  This is what is done at the end of the relationship!  You give everything back so you can move on!"

"Move on?"

"I thought about what you said," she explained.  "We've been fighting since June, and if things were going to get better, they would have.  I don't want to fight anymore, Jess.  I don't want to go through this every time I see you."

"I don't want this stuff," he said for a third time, trying to make her understand that this was the wrong move.  But he didn't know what else to say, how to tell her.  He had spoken out of anger when he had said he no longer wanted this.  He didn't!  He was sick of the fighting, and their inability to move past it all.  But her… god, he still wanted her.  Even after all of it, even after she had thrown the words back in his face. 

He just needed her to trust him, believe him, want him back.

"I'm… sorry.  For not believing you at the Christmas party, and for everything I've said."  She paused, fidgeting in front of him.  Say it all now, she reminded herself.  Just let this end well.  "I'm just really sorry."

He finally tore his eyes away, looking down in the box.  He saw books that didn't belong to him, things he hadn't even realized she had had.  He didn't want any of this back.  He didn't want to be purged from her life.

"I'll see you, Jess."  Without waiting for a response, she turned around and walked out the door.

----

Lane caught up with Rory halfway back to her house, leaving Dave to go back home to his family.  Lane was silent even after she reached her best friend's side, and finally when they turned onto Rory's road, she opened her mouth to speak.  Before she could get out one word, however, Rory cut her off.

"Don't.  I don't want to discuss it or analyze it or dwell on it.  I want to talk about something else.  You!  Let's talk about you," Rory decided, nearly rambling.  "How's school?  The band?  Dave?  How's Dave?"

"Dave?" Lane asked.  "I… He's…"  She paused and sighed.  "I really shouldn't be wanting to unload this on you now what with you still thinking about Jess and just recovering from that.  I mean now's the time where you talk to me about how _you're _feeling, and I don't want to be a bad friend…"

"Lane."

"Yes?"

"What's wrong with Dave?"

They had reached her house, and had slowly been heading up the driveway.  Instead of going inside, Rory steered Lane to the porch swing and they sat, the seat creaking loudly from the added weight and the cold.

"Remember how I was really excited about Dave coming back for vacation, and I couldn't wait to see him?"

"I definitely do.  We had a little countdown on the calendar, and three circles around the date he was returning.  They were even different colors, so it would stick out more," Rory answered.

"I wish he hadn't come back."

"Why?" Rory asked, shocked.  Suddenly, Jess flew out of her mind, and she was almost grateful that Lane was in distress.  It was a distraction she so needed.

"Because we've been spending a lot of time together, just talking and hanging out… like we did before, when we dated.  But he's going to have to leave again in a couple of weeks, and then what?  I'm going to have to go through being sad about his leaving _again_.  Everything will be undone!"

"Oh, Lane, I'm so sorry.  That never even crossed my mind…"

"I really like being with him, and pretty soon, I won't have the option to.  We need to spend less time together."

"But don't you want to just enjoy the time you have?"

"No.  No enjoyment!  Because it'll just make it worse later."

"Why don't you and I have a movie night tonight?  Junk food, and a bunch of nonromantic comedies.  My mom will pop popcorn and we'll eat and eat until we can't anymore."

"That sounds like wallowing," Lane said.  "I don't want to wallow."

"Neither do I," Rory assured her.

"We don't need to," Lane stated.  "So… no wallowing?"

"Absolutely none.  Just a fun girls only night," Rory said, feeling her spirits begin to lift.

----

"Alright I bought three little tubs of Ben & Jerry's Ice Cream, the perfect personal size to wallow in!" Lorelai announced, walking into the living room.

"We're not wallowing!" Rory and Lane chorused.

"Dave and I weren't even dating," Lane pointed out.

"Neither were Jess and I," Rory said, almost tripping over his name.  Internally, she groaned, but then took a quick breath, reminding herself that tonight was supposed to be fun.  Jess and her were over.  He wanted it that way, so she delivered.  Now was the moving on time.  Tonight was a new beginning.

"Let's see… I rented _Gigli_," Lorelai began.

"There's romance in that," Lane cut in.

"Come to find out, it is very hard to find a movie that does not involve relationships.  I mean, even the cartoon animal movies have a love story!  _Balto_ was about sick children in desperate need of medicine, but you know he only did it to impress that girl dog." Lorelai rolled her eyes.  "Anyway, _Gigli_ is for mocking not enjoying."

"Good thinking," Rory nodded, retrieving the popcorn from the kitchen.

"I also got _Spice World_," Lorelai continued.

"Cinematic genius," Rory smiled, sitting down next to Lane.  "When the bus jumped the bridge…"

"I know!  My heart stopped too.  The miniature plastic looked so authentic!" Lorelai enthused playfully.  "And last but not least… _Happy Gilmore_."

"Why _Happy Gilmore_?" Lane inquired.

"Name's in the title," Lorelai shrugged.  "Besides, Adam Sandler comedy is always welcome in our household no matter the occasion."

Lorelai went over to the VCR and popped the first film in, before settling on the couch, next to Rory.  Spread out on the coffee table in front of them was an assortment of all kinds of junk food from chocolate to gummy bears to jelly beans.  Newly poured popcorn was on one side, and pretzels were on the other, for Rory who especially enjoyed mixing the two tastes.  All was set for the perfect 'Girls Only' movie night when the doorbell rang, pulling Lorelai from her spot.

"I'll get it," she said, pausing the film.

"Hey, it's only the previews!" Rory complained.

"They're my favorite part," Lorelai pouted, walking over to the door.

Opening it up, she found her least favorite person in the world, standing on her porch, box in tow.

"Hi," was her curt greeting.

"Hi," Jess answered, immediately alerting Rory to his presence.  She froze in her spot.  "Is Rory here?"

"Uh… I'm not entirely sure.  I, ah, have to check," Lorelai replied, closing the door in his face.  She turned and headed for the couch. 

"I'm here," Rory sighed.  "I better go and just…"

"You don't have to be here," Lorelai said.  "I could tell him you're out, or uh, dead.  You know… something."

"It's okay," Rory shrugged. 

"He had a box," Lorelai said.

"Oh.  Oh, of course.  Yeah, he's just… yeah.  My stuff."  Rory walked past her mother and opened the door.

"You're home," Jess said.

"I'm home," she repeated.  "Is that…"

"Yeah," Jess said, handing it over.  "I'm just giving it back."

"Thanks."  She took it, finding it surprisingly heavy, and set it down next to her in the front hall.

"No problem."  He stood for a moment longer, staring at her, almost as if willing her to speak.  But then he just nodded and turned, walking down the steps.

Rory closed the door and looked down at the box as Lane and Lorelai joined her in the hall.

"You okay?" Lorelai asked.

"Fine," Rory said, forcing a smile.  "I'm fine."  She kneeled down, and opened the top, surprising herself at her boldness.  Fine, she was fine!  She could look at this.  It was her stuff, after all.

But it wasn't.  Reaching in further, she found a pile of Jess's books, CDs, and a couple of his T-shirts.  Everything inside was what she had brought him that morning.  Upon further inspection, she found that it was the exact same box.  He hadn't even bothered to transfer the items into a different one!

"I can't believe him!" she snapped, standing up.  Turning around, she ripped her coat off the hook, and took off outside, leaving a confused Lorelai and Lane behind.

----

"Jess!" she called out, as she rounded out of her driveway and reached the sidewalk.  She saw him several feet ahead of her, and called his name again. 

He stopped and turned around, waiting for her to reach him.  By the time she did, she was frowning, giving him her worst look.

"I gave that stuff back to you for a reason," she said.

"I told you I didn't want it."

"Why are you making this so hard?" she whined.  "This is what you wanted!  You said you were tired of this, so why, _why_ are you fighting me on this?"

When he didn't answer, she tugged on her jacket, frustrated, and turned to leave.  "Forget it."

She had only turned halfway around when he grabbed her wrist, pulling her toward him.  "What are you…"  She stopped when he reached for her neck.  Following him with her eyes, she watched as he delicately touched the silver chain that she had tried to hide beneath her shirt.  He lifted the necklace partly in the air, higher than he needed.  His fingers brushed her soft skin, momentarily lingering on her pulse.  Then, he ran the length of the chain, pulling it out from under her shirt.  Mentally she chastised herself for not zipping her coat up before chasing after him.

He dropped down to the charm that hung in the center, the small 'R' that had first caught his eye back in the mall.

"How did you..."

"The way you wrapped it," she admitted quietly.  "I was able to untape the top and slip the box in and out."

Instead of dropping the necklace back in its place, he once around ran the length of it up toward her jaw.  When he finally let it go, his hand was half in her hair, his thumb brushing her cheek.  She let out a shuddery breath, and continued.

"I just wanted to see what it was.  And then I wanted to see how it would look, and…"  She trailed off, unconsciously leaning into his touch.  "You've never bought me jewelry before."

"I wanted to get you an L," he explained, "so when you wore it and introduced yourself as Rory, it would confuse people."

She smiled at his confession, and he went on, "I got you the R instead, so your mom couldn't borrow it.  You were always saying that she borrowed your stuff…"

"And never returned it," she finished.  "It's beautiful," she said, very, very quietly.  He barely heard it.

He leaned forward and caught the words, kissing her soundlessly.  At first she seemed happy, pulling him further against her, but just as suddenly, she took a step back, as if it had stung.

"Don't do this, Rory.  Not anymore."

"You said you didn't want this!  I thought… God!  I don't know what I think anymore!"

He took a step closer, but she looked away, trying to ignore the stirring she felt inside, and the sharp pain behind her eyes.  The two conflicting emotions waged a battle against each other, but it ended in a stalemate.  Both the desire and sadness lingered, transforming her into a mess.

Finally, she looked up, meeting his eyes.  Her confusion was spinning out of control here; she could have sworn he was seriously angry with her.

"You were mad."

"You said you were sorry," he shrugged.

"Sometimes, I swear I hate you."  Her voice was void of any bitterness; she was simply stating a fact.

"It happens."

"Jess, when you came to town, you know how everyone reacted, what everyone said."

The abrupt change in subject took him by surprise, but he followed along, sensing the seriousness here.

"Yeah."

"And then when we started dating, it continued, maybe even got worse.  I always defended you, you know I did, but sometimes, I let what they said get to me.  I wanted to trust you, but it was hard.  And then when I finally _did_… you proved them right."  Her tone was even, cool, calm, everything she could to keep him from running right now.  She wasn't trying to start a fight; she was trying to explain.

"You hurt me really bad, and… I think I wanted to hurt you back."

"By staying angry," he finished.

"You have to understand how hard it is for me to believe that we can be okay again.  I trusted you once, and you let me down.  I'm afraid of what will happen if we try again."

"Rory, I can't promise you that it's going to be fine.  We fight, it's impossible not to.  I act like a jerk, you act like a princess, it happens.  But… I _can_ promise that it will be different this time."

The frightened look still didn't leave her face, and he was coming to the end of his rope.  He had no idea what he could say.

"I'm here, Rory.  And I want to try again.  Can't that be enough?"

There was a moment of silence, in which his heart dropped, and he felt a blast of anger.  Once again he had put himself out there, and once again, it was for nothing.  He had should have left it alone that morning.  He should never have fought her on this.  He was planning on telling her to drop the box back off tomorrow, so they could finish this for good, but then he saw her give a slight nod, and she kissed him.

It was a tender kiss, shy and slow, as if this was their first time.  He almost couldn't remember where to put his hands, shocked to the core at her bold move.  But then he was pulling her into him, letting her take the lead.  She touched his face, and deepened the kiss, and he no longer doubted her.  It didn't even cross his mind that when this was done, she would run.  He knew, somehow, that she wouldn't.

"I want this too," she mumbled against his lips, not wanting to move away even to say that.  She wanted to keep his arms securely around her, where they were supposed to be.

He looked down, breaking contact, but keeping her close.  Meeting her gaze once again, he said for one final time, so she knew and understood:

"I'm sorry."

"Me too," she whispered.

And then she kissed him again.


	16. Epilogue

**A/N**: Beware the time jump.

****

**Epilogue**

Rory made her way down the dimly lit hallway, her high heels muffled by the worn rug that lined the center. With a curious and somewhat critical air, she studied the walls as she passed, looking for discolored stains or enlarged cracks. While this place was by no means a luxurious steal, it was at least neat and comfortable, perfect for people with a low budget and normal standards. It made her feel better. She didn't want Jess to be unhappy.

Once she reached the door, she immediately went for the key in her purse. It had only been a week since she had received it and already, she had made herself at home, using it whenever she wished. But today was different. Typically, all days following one of their fights were. Somewhat guilty and nervous, she knocked on his door. She did it lightly, as if unconsciously hoping he wouldn't hear.

Pausing, she listened for movement inside, but heard nothing. He had to be home. She had seen him only a couple of hours earlier. He hadn't seen her though as she had nestled herself in the throng of people in the back of the gym. But she had been there.

She knocked again with a renewed strength. _Be here_, she silently ordered. _Let's fix this now_.

Once again, there was no answer. She felt her heart do a funny hop, skittering within her chest. Briefly, she wondered if it was possible for it to detach and sink away.

She pulled her key out and fit it into the lock. Stepping inside the apartment, she looked around, her vision stretching beyond the miscellaneous boxes and the furniture that still wasn't properly arranged. She searched for him.

Shutting the door quietly behind her, she crept further in, past the brand new couch Luke had bought as a house warming slash congratulatory gift. There were other things from Luke here, too. A secondhand desk, a microwave, a couple of mismatched kitchen chairs. A brand new toaster.

Finally, she detected movement coming from the bedroom. She slinked over to the threshold, not wanting to startle him. Sure enough, there Jess stood, half dressed, hair wet, rummaging through a box for a presentable shirt. He had been in the shower, she realized. He hadn't been ignoring her visit.

"Hi," she said.

He looked up from his fruitless search, giving off no evidence that he was startled by her abrupt appearance. "Hey."

"I knocked and no one answered."

"You have a key."

"I know. I just… don't want to overstep my boundaries. You've only had this place for a week, and do you really want me to just barge in without notice at all hours?"

"I gave you the key," he said slowly. "You can come whenever."

"What if it's the middle of the night?"

"Especially if it's the middle of the night."

She blushed, averting her gaze. He had yet to find a shirt to cover himself with.

"Does this visit have any particular cause?" he asked.

"No." She shrugged, not moving from her spot in the doorway. "I was just in the neighborhood, and… Well, it would have been rude for me to pass your apartment and not stop by to say hi."

"You were in the neighborhood?" he asked, arching an eyebrow. She frowned, growing uneasy, so he decided to play along. "You're right. It would have been very rude not to stop by."

He took a step forward but then stopped, waiting for her to move closer. Wringing her hands together, she nearly turned and bolted, before coming to her senses and walking into the room.

"I wanted to say congratulations," she admitted. Meeting his eyes, she smiled. "I'm so proud of you."

He felt her sentence more than he heard it. It brought a deep pressure within him, a surge of adrenaline through his body. It took all his willpower not to gasp out from the lack of oxygen reaching his lungs. He almost couldn't breathe.

"You looked so… I don't even know! You were just up there and it was amazing. You did it."

"On my second try," he finally managed.

"Doesn't matter."

"You were there?" he asked, suddenly remembering her empty seat next to Luke, four rows up from the stage.

"In the back. I was late."

"You weren't going to come."

"No, I wasn't. But then I remembered how much I hated you not being there for mine, and… I had to go. I wanted to see it."

Another step forward, closer now. He was able to reach out and grasp her elbow; he pulled her toward him. Instinctively, her arms went around his neck. His skin was soft, still warm from the shower.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

He kissed her sweetly, enjoying the taste of forgiveness that came with their contact. It always hurt when they fought. But it always felt amazing when they made-up. Like the first breath of the beach air after too long beneath the surface.

He meant to say he was sorry too. A simple apology that she would know he meant, and one that she would accept. It would bring everything back to normal, to their usual playful dynamic. But instead of pulling away from him, she pushed herself closer, letting her purse drop from its place on her shoulder to the ground.

She was as tall as him today, dressed in high heels to match her thin summer dress. She had wanted to look nice for his big day, look nice for him. Now, she kicked her shoes off, and let her flat feet rest against the carpet. He had to lean forward a bit more to keep her close.

In the next room, the phone rang, its noise both shrill and unexpected. Jess knew it was Luke calling to see if he was ready yet, because both he and Jimmy were waiting to head to the restaurant, and he swore to God he would take Jimmy's head off if Jess did not get there soon. Jess broke the kiss, but made no move to answer the call.

"Someone's trying to get in touch with you," Rory pointed out.

"It's Luke."

"Luke's trying to get in touch with you."

"He can wait."

"You're mean."

"I know."

"You're a huge jerk," she went on. "Very sarcastic. Surly, too. I kind of want to kill you most of the time."

"Yeah, well, you're kind of spoiled. Wait, you're completely spoiled. Bossy, too. Just the other day you ordered for me at the diner because apparently, I don't know what I want."

"You don't. You're indecisive, careless, and have no direction. It's pretty sad."

"Isn't this how our last fight started?"

"No, it started with going to the movies. Then it became a difference of opinions. Next thing you know, we're yelling at each other in the middle of a town meeting. How lucky were we that Kirk had chosen this week to become a photographer?"

Jess nodded gruffly, feigning seriousness. "It was fate."

"We made the front page of the Stars Hollow Gazette."

"It's wasn't the first time."

She laughed and kissed him again. "Luke wanted to tell you something."

"He wanted to tell me to hurry the hell up, he doesn't have all night."

"You're going out to dinner with him?"

"Him, Jimmy, Sasha, Lily… you're still invited."

"I'll have to check my schedule."

"You've been off from school for nearly a month, and so far, all your plans have been with either me or Lane."

"Go put a shirt on. Your bare chest disgusts me."

Jess rolled his eyes and returned to the Great Search of 2004: Mission Dress Shirt.

"I saw Lane today," Rory said. "She caught me after your graduation or else I would have been here sooner. She was so happy she did her little drummer dance."

"Drummer dance?" Jess asked, pulling out a halfway decent top.

"Imagine the snoopy dance but with drumsticks."

"Huh."

"Dave's transferring to a college in Connecticut."

Jess turned around as he buttoned his shirt, looking rather surprised. "I thought he loved it down there."

"He did. I guess he just loved Lane more."

Jess paused, unable to find words as Rory held his eyes with her own. Something passed through the air between them. Something good. "I'm happy for them."

"Me too." She gave him a wistful smile. "I'm really happy."

No sooner had he finished buttoning his shirt then Rory was against him, kissing him with a fervent need. He turned the two of them around, so he could angle her toward the bed. She let him.

This was how it had been for the two of them since she had finally forgiven him, and he, in turn, had forgiven her. They worked together now, still fighting often, but never something they could not handle. That was just what they did. They had a difference of opinion; they clashed. But they always made up. After everything they had been through, neither of them would allow something as inconsequential as an argument end their relationship.

She found herself lowered onto his bed, and she had to stifle a laugh as her feet became tangled up in his sheets. He hadn't made the bed today. Right now, she was glad he hadn't.

She tugged on his shirt, bringing him roughly down the rest of the way. His sudden weight startled her, but she did not try to push him off; she liked the way it felt. It was a reminder of his solidity, that he was real. They were real.

It was like certainty.

Drops of water from his hair slipped across her face, onto her lips. He tried to wipe them away, leaving damp streaks across her cheek. She wanted to tell him to leave it alone, not to worry, but it came out more like a moan. He understood.

His hands wandered from her face down her body, a tantalizing path that he purposely slowed. She arched against him, and he moved faster, finding his way beneath her dress. Soon, the both of them would get too carried away, and the next hour would slip by in the rustle of sheets if she didn't stay something. He had places to be.

"Jess," she tried. It came out as a broken gasp.

"Mmm?"

"_Jess_." She no longer had any idea if she was trying to stop this.

"Yeah?" he asked, knowing that she was beyond an understandable response.

But finally she grasped a word, a singular phrase that would snap him out of this. "Luke."

And it stopped. "If you're picturing Luke right now, I question your mental health."

"Luke's waiting."

"Luke's always waiting for me."

"You don't want to keep him doing it forever, do you?"

He gave her one last brief kiss, and sat up, pulling her into a sitting position.

"We should get going," she suggested, letting her head fall on his shoulder.

"Yeah, I'm right on that."

Both were still and silent, eyes on the window across from the bed. It was darker now; the light outside had faded. Their images were reflected in the glass. They saw the view of the city through the dim outline of themselves.

"New Haven looks nice at night," she whispered.

"Yeah," he agreed.

She picked her head up to look over at him, a small smile playing at her lips. "I love you." It wasn't the first time she had said it. It wouldn't be the last either.

"I love you, too."

"You're happy here, right? Here… this place… this city?"

If taken at face value, he knew she was referring to his new apartment. This new place he had saved for, a place he had chosen so he could be closer to her. But there was something more there, too. Sometimes, she still became worried over whether there was regret. Whether this was all worth it.

"I am," he promised.

He took her hand in a surprisingly tender gesture. She leaned closer to him, resting her forehead against his. Closing her eyes, she let out a small breath, dizzy from the torrent of feeling that had sprung up within her.

"Hey," he said quietly.

She opened her eyes. "Hey."

For a few moments more, they sat quietly in the dark, the only sound their breathing. Gently, she kissed the side of his mouth, brushing a hand down the front of his shirt. Then, both stood and left the apartment together, heading for his graduation dinner.

(end)

* * *

**A/N**: And that's it. Thanks for sticking along for the ride even when I began to drift with the updates. Thanks to the Lit thread and especially to Becka, Mai, Marissa, Lia, Arianna, and Lee. Becka, I love you babe, thanks for all the kind words and encouragement. You are a wonderful friend. And to M and L, awesome girls who get awesome nicknames, heh.

I've been getting much busier lately due to school and college preparation, and there is a good chance I may not get to finish my two remaining stories. I'm very, very sorry for that.


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